Long, Long Journey
by Caelhir
Summary: Elrond sends Legolas on a dangerous quest into the Misty Mountains.
1. Greetings from Greenwood

**Hey there. You've stopped in to read my story, and you have no idea (or perhaps you do...) how happy that makes me. Concrit is very welcom, but please be respectful and kind. Thanks to ziggy3 for encouragment and ideas, to midnight13731 for support, and to misscruel for beta reading!**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**Long, Long Journey**

_by Caelhir_

_Beta'd by misscruel_

_Chapter 1_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**And I learned what is obvious to a child. That life is simply a collection of little lives, each lived one day at a time. That each day should be spent finding beauty in flowers and poetry and talking to animals. That a day spent with dreaming and sunsets and refreshing breezes cannot be bettered. But most of all, I learned that life is about sitting on benches next to ancient creeks with my hand on her knee and sometimes, on good days, for falling in love. ~ The Notebook**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**_Year 2509 Third Age of Middle Earth_**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Elrohir grinned at Elladan.

"There's no way that's true!" Elladan protested.

"Oh, I assure you, Elladan, it is true. I've seen it. Come on; I'll show you!" And with that, the tall, dark-haired elf turned and darted through the trees.

Elladan cried out in protest, then sighed and followed. He didn't believe for one moment that there was a three legged Orc roaming around Rivendell, but he followed Elrohir, not paying close attention to his whereabouts until his identical brother finally lost him among a patch of thick, old trees. When Elladan looked up, irritated to find out when Elrohir would actually show him this stupid Orc, Elladan realized that Elrohir had simply vanished, for he was nowhere in sight. Elladan looked around to make sure, then continued on his path, loosening his light knife. Perhaps there was truth in Elrohir's words? Had he been captured? or injured? Elladan sped up, trying to banish those thoughts from his mind as his path wound and twisted into a small clearing. The back of his neck prickled as he realized he was being watched. He swung around, glaring into the trees and scrubby brush around him, then continued walking. Elrohir wasn't here. Where was he?

Elladan stopped, aware of the silence pressing in around him. "Elrohir?" he called softly. "Are you there? Where did you go?"

Still, nothing but the quiet.

Elladan turned around in a circle, his suspicions that his twin was having him on. He crouched low and began to creep forwards. He didn't know where he was going; he just was.

A crash to his left, and he couldn't help it; he yelped and fell into a bush.

Peals of clear elven laughter met his ears as he struggled with his leafy captor.

"_Mae govannen, _Elladan!" said a voice he recognized. He groaned and flung an arm over his eyes, after catching sight of a tall, lithe form dropping down from a tree in front of him, straightening as easily as though the ten foot drop had been no more than a simple step down.

Legolas, prince of Greenwood grinned at him and offered him a hand.

Elladan took his friend's hand, and the elf pulled him to his feet.

Elrohir was lying on his back beneath a tree a little ways off. He was cursing under his breath, wheezing and coughing. At Elladan's curious look, Legolas said, "Elrohir wanted to hide in the trees and see how long you would wander around. He had less patience than I, and he tried to get a better looking point, and-"

"-And he fell out," said Elladan, now laughing himself now. He stepped around Legolas and went to Elrohir, who was still on the ground.

"How do you fare, _gwador_?" Elladan asked, not bothering to contain his mirth.

In answer, Elrohir glared at Elladan and began to stagger to his feet. He winced as he gingerly pressed his hand to his ribs. "I only feel out because _someone-_" he whipped around and glared daggers into the tree, "-pushed me out of the tree!"

Elladan frowned. Who else would be in on the joke?

He shouted in laughter as another elf, slimmer and shorter than the first, dropped to the ground besides Elrohir (who was swearing something terrible, words their father would be shocked to know Elrohir even knew!). The youngest Peredhel, their young sister Arwen had been the third prankster!

All four elves laughed for a few further moments, until finally, clutching their ribs, they made their way back to the house of Elrond (and children), occasionally mimicking Elladan's wild leap into the hedge, or Elrohir's tumble form the tree.

While Elladan and Arwen began to chat in earnest about horse racing, one of their favorite past times, Elrohir and Legolas dropped back to speak to Legolas, looking slightly worried.

"Are you well?" He asked of his long time best friend.

Legolas glanced slantwise at Elrohir out of soft grey eyes, then sighed. "Yes, 'Ro, I am as well as can be expected."

Elrohir frowned, narrowing his eyes. "How fares your relationship with your father back in Greenwood, then, if you are well?"

He had touched a nerve with that one, he knew. Legolas stopped dead, mouth twisted in a grimace, and eyes reflecting hidden pain. Then he continued walking, eyes downcast.

"Elrohir, I care about you too much to lie to you. It's not good, not good at all." He glanced up to where Elladan and Arwen were still arguing playfully, to ensure they did not hear his next words. "Elrohir, I think my father...is fading. I think Nana's death has hurt him too deeply. The way he acts now...it's just, he gets angry with me about little things, like getting sidetracked on a patrol, or if Thoronsul and I ever go out together, he gets upset if we aren't returned _exactly_ when we say we will be. I think he's just worried, but I wish that he didn't get angry."

Legolas paused for a moment, then continued in a very small voice that betrayed his fear for his father, "I don't want to lose my Ada as well."

Elrohir stopped now, pulling Legolas to a halt beside him, then glanced at the other two, and pulled Legolas off the path, onto a hidden path Legolas had not seen. Legolas stumbled, steered by Elrohir's grip on his arms. " 'Ro, what about Elladan and Ar-"

"They'll think we've gone off to play a prank on them." Elrohir responded, dragging Legolas around to face him. "Now," he said, in a much more serious tone, "What did he say this time? And don't _lie_ to me, 'Las, I know you're hurting! Your father-"

"-will not stop berating me just because I ran away!" Legolas responded angrily, the words slipping between his lips with out his consent. "He'll think it cowardly, and he'll be even angrier!" He bit his lips and stepped back from Elrohir, the only one he had ever told, the only one he had felt safe around since his mother's passing.

Sighing heavily, Legolas passed a hand over his eyes, as if to shake some unseen veil from them.

"Elrohir, I'm truly worried, and I don't know what to do. I really do want to help my father, it's just that...oh, I don't know, we're just at odds half the time, even though I know he doesn't mean to be angry, I really don't think he does!"

Legolas shook his head, a bitter smile creeping across his face. "The other half of the time, he's busy being the king he is, and attempts to balance being a good father and just king while trying to keep a falling kingdom together!"

Elrohir's hazel eyes softened, and he pulled Legolas into an embrace, resting his chin on the other's head. _Ai, my friend, my brother Legolas, _he thought sadly.

Elrohir had been Legolas' closest friend since the first time he and Legolas had met, both as children, when the Royal family of Greenwood had come on a visit to Imladris. Elrohir had been taller than Legolas, but still only reached his father's hip He had watched from a high window as the Greenwood party had trotted into the center courtyard. The smallest member of the party, seeming to be around Elrohir's own age, had looked around in awe at the beauty of Imladris, and so, had caught sight of Elrohir, who had waved shyly. The elf in the courtyard waved back, and the friendship had begun.

From then on, Legolas had begged to accompany his father's pages on their journeys to Imladris to play with Elrohir. But of course, where Elrohir was, so was Elladan, and Arwen, when she was old enough to toddle along after the three elflings.

After the death of Legolas' Lorien-born mother, Nearlinde, Legolas had become quieter and quieter, until finally Elrohir had confronted him and consequently, found out about the verbal abuse that Legolas had received at his grief-stricken father's hands. The very idea had stunned the Noldor elf, for he had never known a parent to shout at his child, and he had wanted to tell his father immediately.

But Legolas had forced Elrohir to swear to never reveal the secret of Thranduil's failing life and fading patience until Elrohir hadn't heard from him for at least a month. Elrohir had then received many letters from Legolas, some light, and casual, others telling Elrohir of the increasingly tense, but strangely strong, relationship between the royal father and son of Greenwood.

Recently, Legolas had told Elrohir that his father's condition was getting increasingly worse as the Shadow in the south of Greenwood grew stronger and created more stress on the patrols and the king who commanded them. Thranduil's temper had been growing shorter, and as his father's temper became smaller, Legolas' worry for the king, and more importantly, for his father, grew larger.

Elrohir wrenched his mind back to the conversation, but as he focused back upon the subject of his thoughts, the tall Greenwood elf was nowhere to be seen.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**Please review!**


	2. Trees and a Mission

**Long, Long Journey**

_by Caelhir_

_Chapter 2_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**It's so curious: one can resist tears and 'behave' very well in the hardest hours of grief. But then someone makes you a friendly sign behind a window, or one notices that a flower that was in bud only yesterday has suddenly blossomed, or a letter slips from a drawer... and everything collapses. ****~Colette**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Elrohir spun around on his heel, looking around for the suddenly absent elf.

"Legolas? 'Las?"

_Where did he get to so fast?_ Elrohir thought confusedly. He had just been standing here, talking to the archer, and now? Where had he gone?

Elrohir looked around again, but still there was no sign of the other elf. Elrohir was quite bemused now, not understanding. Was Legolas pulling a prank? The one with the three-legged orc not long ago had been amusing enough (and almost certainly of Legolas' own engineering), but another on top of that?

Then Elrohir focused on the conversation he and his friend had just been having. Would the Greenwood elf have run away from the subject? Legolas had seemed a little more than upset...

Elrohir's mind flew into a panic instantly, and almost irrationally. He knew that with Legolas as distraught as he was, the Greenwood elf could easily not pay attention to what he was doing and get hurt, or die, or run into a tree, of fall of a cliff, or...

The dark-haired elf closed his eyes. _Relax, _he told himself. _Focus. He needs you to be calm now, now panicking like a girl who's just seen Glorfindel walking down the hallway! _Smirking at the mental image of a scene familiar to him, Elrohir darted through a tangle of bushes, panicking even more now despite himself, though he knew not why-

-and crashed abruptly into Legolas, who stood solidly stock-still, head tilted to one side as he listened to some unheard thing.

The other elf turned to Elrohir and his eyes were confused. Legolas' eyes were one of the things that captivated Elrohir about Legolas. Where Legolas' father Thranduil's hair was pale gold, and his eyes were icy-blue, Legolas' hair was darker, a darkened gold that reflected his mother's life in his more than his Ada's. Legolas' eyes were dark grey, but flecked with green. It made for a strange sight, the grey irises scored with green, like little leaves, flicking around to see the trees.

It seemed to Elrohir, however, that over the last few times he had seen Legolas, the grey in his eyes had been darkening. They seemed less like a snow-covered forest now than a shadow-filled wood. Elrohir wondered if Greenwood was the place he remembered and had always read about; merry elves dancing and singing gaily and throwing raucous parties about everything. Elrohir supposed not: the shadow grew everywhere, more now than ever, and Greenwood, vast and "primitive" (in Erestor's words when Legolas was not around) was a perfect base for the shadow to begin multiplying their forces. Besides, from what Legolas said about having more patrols and duties more often (warrior duties he shared with his fellows, and princely duties he shared with his older brother Thoronsul), it seemed indeed that the forest was slowly toppling.

"The trees, 'Ro, they are telling me...things, but it is all jumbled...so many voices, so many things they are saying!" Legolas looked at the trees in hazy confusion. "'I can't understand you...please, what is you want me to know?"

Elrohir knew Legolas was speaking to the tress aloud because his head was too full of their voices to make himself heard.

Calming himself (he had found his friend and Legolas was just fine), Elrohir gripped Legolas' arm and asked if there was a mood or theme to the trees' incessant chatter.

"They sound...worried? Or nervous...perhaps they are anticipating something." Legolas' eyes darted all around the two of them as he listened to the silent whispers of the trees.

"Come," said Elrohir, gently pulling at Legolas' arm, still in his grip.

The two elves turned together, Legolas still glancing around in a dazed sort of way, listening to all the voices of the trees.

He wasn't sure what caused their sudden panic and need to speak all a t once. Usually, the trees at Rivendell, were overjoyed to meet a Greenwood elf, for their connection with the natural world was deep and passionate.

Now, they all clamored to get his attention, but in doing so, rendered their message undecipherable, and he was feeling suddenly urgent and Elrohir, slightly ahead of him, rounded the bend and was instantly tackled by Arwen, who had been lying in wait.

Legolas jerked out of his reverie as he looked around for Elrohir's mirror image (though Legolas knew Elrohir so well, he knew what separated them, and not only in their looks, but in their hearts). He had only a moment to wonder, though, as a second later, he found himself hit by a force low on his side, and another moment later, was lying on the path, looking up at Elladan's grinning face.

"Ha ha! Arwen, we got them! I knew you were right. Good plan, young sister!" Turning to the two downed elves, he continued, "You two were so long, we had _ages_ to come up with something good!"

Elrohir smirked at Elladan as the latter was pulled to his feet by their sister.

"You had better watch out, both of you! Legolas and I will claim our revenge some other time!"

As though Elrohir remembered what had caused their delay, he turned back to Legolas.

"Are you well, though?" He said, as though their conversation had never ended. "Do you-"

"Legolas cut him off. "I think we should hurry back to Imladris. I believe your father will be their waiting to examine us for broken bones, gashes or wounds of some kind or another."

Laughing together, the four turned down the path (again) and set off (again) for Imladris (again).

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Elrond stood at the window, looking out at the beauty of his haven. He saw none of it.

Two hours previously a scout had reported back to Imladris, bleeding profusely from a nasty wound, dying, really, but desperately grating his words out to Erestor that he simply _must_ get his news to Elrond, and no other.

In the end, Glorfindel had helped the scout, Linsul, to Elrond's study, where, on the verge of collapse (and the brink of death) he had told Elrond that his lady wife Celebrian had been taken from her company, of which Linsul had been a part, which had been going to Greenwood on a diplomatic visit. Elrond had felt it was necessary to send his wife, since she always had a calming effect on those she spoke with. Some thing she had learned from her mother, he assumed.

And now, he had not moved from his position at the window, not even when Glorfindel had brought the news of Linsul's death a few minutes after Linsul had left. Glorfindel had sounded very grieved, as Linsul had been his progeny in Imladris, his best student, and best-trained scout he had produced in a long while.

Now Elrond heard shouts of laughter and chatter approaching the house. It sounded as though his sons had returned with Arwen from their short excursion into the ambiance of the woods around Rivendell. But to whom did the fourth voice belong? Turning slightly, he realized that Legolas prince of Greenwood was with his sons and daughter. _As usual,_ he thought grimly. _It is good he is here. For Elrohir at least, it will make the news easer. _Elrond sighed again and continued thinking,_ If only Legolas had been with Celebrian..._

Elrond straightened suddenly. _If only..._ An idea had fluttered into his mind, akin to the way a butterfly might. It was an idea that was involved risk, danger, and a little more risk. But Elrond knew that, though it would seriously endanger the already-tenuous relations between Imladris and Greenwood, this idea was perfect.

Perfect, except for the insurmountable danger he would place upon the shoulders of the one he would give the mission to, not to mention the high likelihood of death, capture, torture, starvation, or any of the other things that happens to one who is hunting orcs...

Elrond knew he could not give this task to either or both of his sons; that would be foolhardy, for their heads would not be rational as they hunted for their lost mother like starving wolves hunt lame deer. He knew that though Elladan usually was able to temper Elrohir's wild killing frenzies in battle, Elladan himself would need a balance if he lost the center of his calm aura. _They are the moon and the sun, my sons are_, Elrond thought.

Arwen was out of the question for the retrieval of his wife. She was his tender jewel, his star and light of a daughter. No, on no account would the Evenstar accompany the one would undertake this mission.

Elrond turned into his office as his mind drifted almost reflexively to the Greenwood archer whose praises had been unsung for so long.

Among the folk of Imladris, who never really got the opportunity to see elves from the far-flung realm of Greenwood, Legolas, and sometimes Thoronsul (the wiser and less likely to get into dangerous situations, in Elrond's opinion) were the heroes of many a child's play.

Elrond considered Thoronsul briefly. The elder prince of Greenwood, the crown prince, the heir, was reserved and quiet, extraordinarily polite, but no more so than necessary. He was wise and skilled.

Legolas, on the other hand, though sharing similar traits as his brother (he was polite and kind as well, though in a more humorous way), was not so far above a joke or bit of crude humor, which, Elrond thought, would be welcome relief on any patrol shared with the prince. Linsul the deceased scout had even commented upon this.

Linsul had gone to visit his family in Lorien (a family who would now have to be notified of the talented young scout's death, Elrond remembered with a twinge of guilt and sadness), and had accompanied a group of Lorien diplomats on a voyage to Greenwood. There, Linsul had taken part in some patrols. He had returned in high spirits, regaling Elrohir and Elladan with jokes and stories from Legolas. Many, Elrond noted with amusement, involved Legolas and a love-struck maiden.

Maidens or monsters, thought Elrond dryly.

Legolas was the one who had fought and slain orcs and wargs and enormous evil spiders in his home for so long it had become daily ritual. He and his brother, only forty years apart in age, had been born-and-bred warriors.

_But it would be Legolas who would be the one to rescue Celebrian_, Elrond thought. _He is the one to whom I trust my family._


	3. The Mission

**Long, Long Journey**

_by Caelhir_

_Chapter 3_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,_

_The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying._

_West, west away, the round sun is falling._

_Grey ship, grey ship, do you here them calling,_

_The voices of my people that have gone before me?_

_I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;_

_For our days are ending and our years failing._

_I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing._

_Long are the waves on the Last Shore falling,_

_Sweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling,_

_In Eressëa, in Elvenhome that no man can discover,_

_Where the leaves fall not: land of my people ever!_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\_  
_

"...So then, Thoronsul, the great idiot, tells me that the best way for me to get back on Oronial's good side is to refill his ink-pots with river water mixed with skunk-juice!"

The four elves burst into raucous laughter at the ridiculous story Legolas was telling them, one involving himself accidentally setting a stack of Greenwood's tight-tempered librarian on fire because the then-young Legolas had been told by his older brother Thoronsul that Oronial had asked Thoronsul to do it, but that Thoronsul had to go to his warrior training early.

Poor Legolas! If only he'd known that his brother was tricking him! The resulting rage of Oronial had left Legolas leaping out of sight i corridors and attempting to avoid meals for fear of running into the librarian. Thoronsul, Legolas assured them, never lost an opportunity to remark how "crisp" and "dry" papers in the library looked.

The four elves now came to the bottom of the front steps of Imladris.

Legolas looked up. He always had admired the beautiful architecture of the House of Elrond. It was starkly different than the simple and elegant style of his own home, the cave where his father made his stronghold for their people.

At the thought of his father, Legolas shook his shoulders as if dust had settled between them, and watched as Arwen was dragged away from them by a group of _ellyth, _clearly eager to show her something. She ran off with them, calling apologies over her shoulder.

Legolas watched her go, his heart suddenly aching for female companionship and love. He thought of Arwen as he turned back to follow Elrohir and Elladan, who still chuckled at the tale Legolas had regaled them with, up the steps into the house. _Perhaps in another life..._Legolas thought gloomily. _I do not doubt she has a greater future, as a child of Elrond and Celebrian and granddaughter of Galadriel and Celeborn. And Ëarandil and Elwing, for that matter..._

Legolas turned his mind form such intimidating thoughts and back to the present as Elrohir stopped and cried, "Ada?" down the hall at the flick of retreating robes at the far end.

Elrond stopped and his face, Legolas was shocked to see, was pale and drawn. It looked as though he had neither rested nor slept in too long.

Elladan stepped forward now.

"Ada, what is wrong? Please, tell us!"

Elrond passed a hand over his eyes as though summoning strength and silently motioned them along the hall, where the four trooped into his study, careless of the dirt they tracked onto the polished floor.

Elrond sat at his desk, and Elrohir and Elladan seated themselves in chairs by the fire, spinning them and dragging them loudly across the floor so they were closer.

Legolas, for his part, smirked at the sheepish looks on the twins' faces and leaned against a bookshelf, watching Elrond critically. Something must have been seriously wrong, for Elrond to look so grave.

Ada," Elladan said now. "Please, what has disturbed you so? Why do you look so...so..."

"...bad?" suggested Elrohir, smirking slightly at his twin's glare.

Elrond sighed again, and all three of the young elves sobered immediately.

"I'm sorry, Ada," Elrohir said, politeness steeped almost ridiculously in his voice. "Please, tell us what has happened?"

"My sons," Elrond said, and to the three young ellyn's surprise, his voice cracked. Elladan made to speak, but elrohir kicked his sharply, shaking his head.

"My sons, I fear I bring you bad news. The worst news, I think I will ever have had to impart..." His voice trailed away and he looked out of the window.

Legolas felt a ripple of fear shoot through him. What could possibly make Lord Elrond, the great and famed healer and great Elf-lord act so frightened and small?

"I fear I must tell you that-"

Elrond broke off as the sound of running footsteps approached, and the door was flung back to snap against the wall as Arwen stampeded into the room.

Legolas felt the pang of loneliness as he took in her flushed face and curved brows, framing the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen: green and brown, like the light that streams through a leafy forest to lie on tree-trunks. (A/N: Poetic, no?)

"Ada!" Arwen cried. "Why did you not tell us that Linsul died? When did he die? How?"

But at her words, Elrohir and Elladan had leapt up from their seats, causing the chairs to bang back onto the floor, with similar cries of, "_What?_".

Legolas stood frozen, stiffly leaning against the bookshelf, not feeling it dig into his shoulder anymore. Linsul, the over-eager, highly-skilled young scout whom he himself had spent time training in Greenwood when a patrol from Rivendell had stopped by after visiting Lorien. He and Linsul had in fact began a friendship that had not ended with Linsul's departure. the two young elves had kept up a regular correspondence afterwards, one of three of Legolas' regular writers outside of Greenwood.

And now, the vibrant elf was dead. Gone. Legolas bowed his head and murmured a quiet song or mourning for Linsul:

"From the mouths of the Sea the South Wind flies,

from the sand hills and the stones;

The wailing of the gulls it bears, and at the gate it moans.

'What news from the South, O sighing wind, do you bring to me at eve?

Where now is Linsul the Bright? He tarries and I grieve.'

'Ask not of me where he doth dwell - so many bones there lie

On the white shores and the dark shores under the stormy sky;

So many have passed to find the flowing Sea.

Ask of the North Wind news of them the North Wind sends to me!'

O Linsul! Beyond the gate the seaward road runs south,

But you came not with the wailing gulls from the grey sea's mouth."

When he had finished, Elrond was sending Elrohir and Elladan out of the room with Arwen, giving the reason that he needed to see to Legolas after his long journey and unexpected loss.

Closing the door firmly, Elrond turned to Legolas, but sank against the door tiredly.

"My lord," Legolas ventured, "Why did Linsul die? and What has caused the joy to leave you so suddenly?"

Elrond crossed to the window and stood beside it as he had done not long ago, and seemed to steel himself.

Turning back to the lithe warrior, Elrond took a breath and spoke quietly and quickly:

"Celebrian, my wife, has been captured by orcs. Linsul died shortly after bringing the news to me. He was with her, and I fear she will never return to me."

Legolas gasped, and took a step forwards, horrified, but unsure of how to Celebrian had always been most kind to him, especially after the death of his mother when he was very small. Legolas had always loved her like his own mother since then.

Now, to hear of her capture by the cruel, twisted creatures he knew orcs to be...his heart cried for her and her family.

"My lord Elrond, my heart grieves for you. Please, I will do all I can to-"

Elrond stopped Legolas before he completed his offer.

"Legolas, I must ask of you one thing now, and I can only ask it once, so please, I ask you not to interrupt me."

Once Legolas had nodded, Elrond pressed on:

"Legolas, Prince of Greenwood, you are the younger of your father's sons, but from what I have heard and know to be true, you are the better warrior between you and Thoronsul."

When Legolas made to interrupt, despite what Elrond had said, Elrond shook his head and continued,

"Oh, I know of Thoronsul's praises in battle, of his prodigious skill and many admirers. Am I right in thinking that he does not enjoy the attention?" When Legolas nodded mutely, he continued again, "So although Thoronsul is highly skilled and humble as well, I see those qualities in you as well. So what brings you to mind more quickly that your brother for this thing I must ask of you?

"Perhaps it is your caring nature, more so than your brother possesses. Perhaps it is your favor amongst my children, especially Elrohir. Is it your intelligence and rationality, or is it all of them?

"I cannot say what it is that makes me think of you first, but I can tell you that I can only ask this of you."

Elrond turned to face Legolas fully with the most serious expression Legolas had ever seen him wear, save for the fevered glimpses he remembered catching, once, when he had been severely wounded in a practice fight with Elrohir, when Elrond had been tending to his wounds. Legolas had been so close to death on that occasion, and not until now had Legolas ever expected to see Elrond's face grow so grave ever again.

"Legolas, I ask you - no, I _beg_ you - to go after the orcs, to find them and rescue Celebrian."

Legolas reeled backwards in shock. Go after the orcs? Was Elrond _insane?_

"M-my lord," He stammered, "I-I know not if I can do this! Are-are you sure?"

Elrond nodded. "I know you are the best one for this job. I have already explained to you why you are the one I ask; I await your reply."

Legolas sank into one of the chairs the twins had vacated, his mind reeling still.

this would be the maddest, most crazy thing...but some part of him, the part that was not shouting at him to jump up and leave the room, felt that he owned it to Elrond's family (and to Celebrian) to go find the lady Celebrian and bring her back to her family and home.

Legolas raised his head and met Elrond's eyes, eyes that were filled with trepidation and fear.

"My lord, I will not go out to look for your lady wife."

Elrond's eyes widened and he sank his head into his hands, his whole aura exhibiting defeat.

Legolas continued firmly.

"My lord, I will go out and and I will _bring back_ your lady wife."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**Review please.**

**PS: read "Jackson, Where's My Paycheck" by theharshlightofday. It is fantastic.**


	4. Sleeping Elves

**Please take the time to review. Busy bees that we are, just take the time. I am truly grateful. Positive reviews are truly my life's blood.**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**Long, Long Journey**

_by Caelhir_

_Chapter 4_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**Sometimes, when one person is missing, the whole world seems depopulated. ~Lamartine**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The sun crested a mountain top, dancing across frosty grass and glinting rivers before glaring harshly into the eyes of a lone elf who stood on a narrow trail beneath trees of green.

Legolas blinked and shaded his grey-green eyes as he regarded the land before him. He had walked all night and into the dawn, away from Rivendell and safety, venturing into the land he did not know as well. He was a hunter, his sharp eyes sweeping the ground before his for tracks; his whole being was tense and expectant, slightly apprehensive of what he was hunting. His aura radiated determination to hunt his prey down and retrieve the prize they had stolen from his respected elder, not to mention the friend they had taken from him.

But however much determination and concentration there was on his task, there was a whisper of doubt, a shadow of fear for what he did. For Legolas, skilled as he was, he still felt anger, and from his anger came fear of what he would find when he eventually captured his prey.

Legolas remained still, eyes closing slowly as he listened for sounds he had known all along he would never hear. Inside, he sighed. Opening his eyes, he traced the ground with his intent gaze, intensely trying to find the tracks of his quarry, the orcs who has kidnapped Lady Celebrían from her company.

Now that he thought about it, he realized that he would be coming upon the place where the Lady of Imladris' party had been waylaid by the orcs. He prayed to the Valar for strength as he crested a hill.

A strangled gasp escaped his throat, horror filling his eyes and heart.

Bodies not yet attended to laid strewn across the small plain below him. The only living elf for miles, Legolas took in the scene with barely controlled sadness and grief. Many of these elves he had known, and had liked well. He began to stumble down the hill towards the horrible mass of twisted tortured corpses, then stopped just as suddenly. Legolas took a breath, and knew that if he went to investigate the scene, his heart and resolve would both begin to weaken.

The prince of Greenwood touched his hands to his lips in a silent, fervent prayer for the souls that had left the bodies before him. He straightened and skirted the plain, giving the eerie memorial a wide berth.

Once he had made it to the other side, he focused his attention upon the tracks, still decently visible in the dew-covered grass. Walking over them as to conceal his own tracks, Legolas continued to follow the tracks up into the foothills of the Misty Mountains.

Tall, dark and imposing, the mountains towered in the distance ahead of him,seeming to never closer as he walked towards them. For some reason, he felt a strange sense of dread as he drew nearer.

For several more hours he continued, but it felt to Legolas like the mountains never grew any closer to him. Finally, as the sun hit noon and the heat blazed around him Legolas decided to stop for the day and rest. Having walked all day he was becoming quite tired.

He set his pack down and opened it.

There was not much inside; he hadn't had much time to prepare a travel pack before Elrond had hunted him down in his room and had practically kicked him out the front door. Legolas had had just enough time to ask if Elrond would be informing his children of their mother's capture (to which he received a rather solemn "yes") before he was escorted out the door, down the stairs and across the front grass to the paths that wandered along under trees and over hills to the world outside of Elrond's safe haven.

Now, as Legolas took out the things he would need for a quick lunch before sleep, he realized that he had enough to survive for one fortnight.

_But, _he thought, thinking ahead,_ if- when- I find Celebrían, I will need to make much haste to return to Rivendell, for I will most certainly be low on provisions by that time, and will probably not have enough food for the both of us. She ill be hungry, as I am fairly certain that orcs do not afford their guests any feasts of welcome!_

Smiling grimly, Legolas stretched, overcome by a sudden wave of exhaustion that hit him like a mighty blow.

_Perhaps I will take a quick nap..._he thought wearily. _Just a quick rest before preparing a meal...and more sleep, perhaps?_

Legolas laid down under the meager shade of a tangled overgrown copse of bushes and scraggly trees, closing his eyes against the glare of the sun and the heat of the midday.

Letting his hair be lifted slightly by a relieving breeze, Legolas thought about his plan going forward.

Finding Celebrían would not be easy. Well, rescuing her, he amended. Finding the lady of Imladris would be easy enough, but how would he find her? Would she be well, or abused? Weary or ready to fly and escape?

Legolas decided that as soon as he found the orcs, he would learn as much as he could about his surroundings and try to devise the best escape plan that he could.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Elrohir, Elladan?"

Elladan nudged his dozing brother, who had nodded off lying on the ground, head tucked up on his arms whilst reading a very long and very boring book for a report that Erestor had assigned him. It was about rivers in Greenwood, and was in very bad condition. Elladan wondered what had happened to the book that the pages were half attached and the covers were repaired with lavish amounts of paste and leather. Some of the pages even seemed to have been rubbed in dirt and water, given their condition.*

"My sons?"

Elrond's voice echoed from his study, summoning his sons again.

As Elladan kicked his brother more insistently, heard his father call Arwen as well.

Elladan gave up trying to wake Elrohir and stood, stretching his arms over his head as he walked to his father's study, which was situated at the back of the library. On his way there, he wondered why his father was summoning his children. Was it perhaps because of their unorthodox welcome-back for Legolas to Rivendell? Or maybe it was his and Elrohir's latest prank, a particularly good one suggested by Legolas in one of his many letters to Elrohir. It had involved Legolas sending Elrohir a bottle of enchanted water from Caimaduin disguised as one of several of his father's Dorwinion wines, in which the water had been mixed. Legolas had sent one bottle that did not have any enchanted water in it, for Elrohir and Elladan to drink.

The whole of Imladris save Elrohir and Elladan had been in a state of joyous incredulity as they had opened the bottles at a feast that night.

As the wine had steadily disappeared into the throats of the whole of Imladris' residents, Elrohir and Elladan had become steadily more gleeful, exchanging glances and snickers. They had carefully avoided allowing their goblets to be filled by any bottle than the one in front of then, as was the custom in Imladris.

Remembering the silence the next morning with fondness, Elladan remembered that he and Elrohir had probably had the time of their lives running about Imladris shouting all the things they had never been allowed to say before when anyone could hear them.

Elladan pushed open the door to his ada's study and found his father leaning against the front of the desk, face in hand, Arwen by his side. As soon as the door was open, it seemed an impenetrable gloom had seeped out, puncturing the happy remembrance he had been in.

Elladan stepped forward, reaching his father and gripping Elrond's wrist, pulled it away from his face.

"Ada," he asked, serious now. "_Man le trasta_?"

Elrond looked up at his son and immediately looked behind Elladan for Elrohir.

Upon finding Elrohir was not there, Elrond asked Elladan, "Please go and wake him. I know he's asleep somewhere. He and Legolas were awake late last night."

As Elladan left, he heard Arwen ask Elrond, "Speaking of Legolas, Ada, where is Legolas?"

Elladan paused in the doorway, mildly curious. He had expected to find the Greenwood archer with his brother, but now he thought on it, Elladan realized that he had not even seen Legolas today.

Elrond looked at Elladan. "Go fetch Elrohir, Elladan. All will be told."

To Elladan, it sounded as though his father was bracing himself for something.

Whatever Elrond had to tell them, Elladan mused, must be dire, for he had never seen his father look so grave, not even on occasion when Legolas, Elladan or Elrohir dragged one of the others back to Rivendell on death's doorstep.

Elladan prayed fervently for the blow his father's news to break gently upon his, like waves upon a rick.

_Valar, for steadfastness I pray,_ he thought as he approached his softly snoring brother.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**Man le trasta**_**? - What troubles you?**

***Shameless plug for my completed story, **_**The River Sings.**_


	5. The Grief of Elrohir

**Two chapters in two days...*cheers wildly***

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**Long, Long Journey**

_Chapter 5_

_by Caelhir_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**"Life's challenges are not supposed to paralyze you, they're supposed to help you discover who you are." – Bernice Johnson Reagon**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_Elrohir was standing at the base of a great grey mountain watching a procession make its way nearer to him. As they became clearer, he realized that the figures in the line of elves were very quiet and subdued. Nay, they were not simply subdued..._

_...They were grieving._

_Elrohir was puzzled now. He had never been the one to show any promise of inheriting his father's gift, or his daernana's uncanny sight into the future. But now, this dream was too vivid and exact to be anything but foresight. _

_He frowned. Elladan was the one who had shown promise at foresight, his studious and gentler nature giving the elder twin the right components to follow his father's footsteps to become a healer and caregiver._

_Elrohir, on the other hand, had a quicker temper than his brother (though on occasion, Elladan could become riled and be every bit as violent and dangerous as Elrohir, something Elrohir was slightly unnerved by). Elrohir's passions lay in honing his skills as a warrior to perfection, a trait he shared with his friends from Greenwood. He and the "Greenwood Gang," as Arwen called them, spent many long hours training together._

_But if this was a "foresight dream," then Elrohir decided he would simply wait, watch and learn._

_Now that Elrohir inspected the procession, still making its painfully slow way towards him, he realized he saw his father, Elladan and himself among them. Erestor was there, as were a few warriors from Imladris. They all seemed weary, as thought they had been fighting. Judging from the stains on their clothing, that was precisely what they had been doing. As Elrohir looked at himself, he realized that his clothes were stained red. He hoped he hadn't been wounded seriously: his father would berate him as soon as heal him! _

_Now he saw his own face; he looked pinched with weariness, and more of the same grief he had noticed right away. What was he grieving? The grief on his face seemed deeper than the others' (if only by a little bit). He had never seen such a desolate look on his father's face before; what had happened to make them all seem so bereaved?_

_Then he saw Glorfindel atop Asfaloth, clutching another elf to his chest. Elrohir narrowed his eyes trying to see the other elf's face._

_His heart stopped._

_It was-_

"Elrohir."

Elrohir snapped his head up, smashing Elladan in the face by accident. As Elrohir rolled onto his back clutching the back of his head in agony, Elladan staggered backwards swearing loudly as he gasped and cradled his bleeding nose in his hands.

"Valar, Elrohir! What was that for?"

Elrohir stood carefully, running a hand over the swelling lump on the back of his head.

"I didn't do that on purpose! You interrupted my-"

He stopped, wondering why his heart pounded fiercely and his breathing was much accelerated for simply waking up. He felt a disconnected sense of dread and terrible grief. Why?

Elladan was gingerly removing his hands to check on his nose. Elrohir stepped closer and pulled Elladan's hands away fully, taking over the tending of his brother's nose with the aid of the sleeve of his tunic.

"You look terrible, Elrohir."

Elrohir snorted. "That's rich. I'm not bleeding my brains out!"

Elladan pulled away sharply. "It's not bleeding that bad."

"No," Elrohir agreed, "It's not. The last time you fell for that was when we were about as tall as Ada's leg, and you wanted to go play at the stable, so we climbed into the hayloft- stop that, you're not bleeding anymore!- and we wanted to test that flight potion we made, so-"

"So you pushed me out and I hit my head on the way down, got some hay in the wound, and you hysterically panicked-"

"Not as hysterical as you were when I told you your brains were falling out! do yo remember what you did?"

"I try not to, Elrohir."

Elrohir held up his bloody hands. "Fair enough. Now, why did you interrupt my...rest?"

Elrohir heard Elladan mutter something that sounded like "idiot."

"Ada wants to see us, dolt."

At this, Elrohir wondered instantly if it had anything to do with Legolas coming to him in a strange mood late the previous night. Legolas had seemed saddened by a great burden, and appeared to want comfort without the cost of laying down his burden. Elrohir and Legolas had stayed up late, and into the morning, talking mostly of noncommittal things, trivial but friendly.

Elrohir stood and followed Elladan back into his father's study, feeling his mood of confused grief and somberness intensify.

Elrond looked up as his sons entered, then glanced at Arwen.

"Shut the door, Elrohir, please."

Elrohir did so, then joined his brother and sister sitting in front of his father.

"Elrond steepled his hands together, then regarded his children with a sad expression.

"I have grim news, my children..."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Arwen was weeping.

Elladan sat staring out the window, still as a cat.

Both Peredhel sat in the library where their father had left them hours ago, but the third Peredhel was missing from them

Elrohir had retreated to his room to grieve privately. He was a bundle of contained energy, pacing up and down, up and down on the floor of his room. Anger and fear, hurt and anxiety swept through him, replacing reason with impulse and instinct.

_Nana..._

Elrohir collapsed into heap at the end of his tread, burying his face into his hands as great racking sobs overcame him. He wept for his mother, who stood by him.

She had comforted him when he cried, and now she was not there to hold him.

She had healed his hurts with kisses and hugs, and now she was not there to heal him.

She had helped him through dark times, and now he was lost in the dark.

She had been his_ nana_ and now, she was gone.

His sobs retreated into a silent, terrible sadness, and he lay on his side in the gathering night, unable to do anything but stare blankly and wonder vaguely where Legolas was, and if he had heard the news about Celebrian yet.

Elrohir heard the door open slowly. He heard Elladan call his name, but it was muffled, as though Elladan was speaking underwater. Quite abruptly, Elrohir felt strong arms shaking him.

"_Elrohir!_"

Elrohir remained limp in his brother's arms. Vaguely, he heard his brother call for their father, and soon heard running footsteps and the door swung back and crashed dimly on its hinges.

Everything faded from Elrohir's view as his blank staring eyes slid closed, blocking out his father and brother's concerned faces.


	6. MONSTER CHAPTER and memories

A nice long chapter for you if you review, and same goes for action next chapter. A lot of this chapter will be a flashback with a little intro at the beginning. This helps to set up a little more of the story of Legolas' flight form Greenwood, and...prepare for Angst!Thranduil, and I think it was **The Phantom Dragon** who wanted more Thranduil? Because of the flashback, it is very long (yes!) and the next chapter will be where the action really picks up, so watch out readers, because it's going to get intense!

Thank you to** midnight13731, Leo-firefly, daisymall13, **and **wolflover **for reviewing! I love you all! midnight chan...you are AWESOME!

**/~\** = Flashback

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**Long, Long Journey**

_Chapter 6_

_by Caelhir_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**A rejection is nothing more than a necessary step in the pursuit of success. ~Bo Bennett**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

As Elrohir lay in his father's healing ward, his mind wandering dark paths alone, another elf wandered the dark paths below the towering Misty Mountains.

Legolas' eyes roved over the ground, seeing the tracks that led into the foothills of the mountains. The tracks were getting a little harder to read because it had started to drizzle lightly. He knew that he now had to find the orcs' lair, and quickly.

He debated whether or not to simply head into the foothill. He didn't know that layout of this part of the mountains as well as the ones by the pass, which he had used many times to travel to Imladris.

The section of the mountains which he currently explored was unknown to him, and was intimidating. He wondered briefly if it was wise to have come alone.

He pushed the doubt to the back of his mind (a place which was rapidly filling up; he had stored his argument with his father, his own hurts and feelings, the true force of Lady Celebrian's capture, the reality of his mission, and his hidden feelings for female companionship there, and it space was becoming quite tight!).

Legolas sighed and stopped walking. So many memories...

Closing his eyes, he replayed his homecoming to Greenwood so short a time ago...

**/~\ (Ten Days Ago...) (SCENE SHIFT)**

Legolas groaned and shifted the pack from his back to the bed in a quick movement. Stiffly straightening, he unstrapped his quiver and bow and laid them down as well. He ran a hand over his face, which he knew must still be black-and-blue from the ferocious battle from which he had only recently come. He limped to the mirror that hung over his washbasin and examined his visage carefully. He still had dried blood from cut over his eye painted not his skin, and the two black eyes he received after his nose had snapped bloomed spectacularly. He ran his fingers lightly over a raw gash under his chin, jumping and pressing the cut more sharply than he intended.

"Enter," he called, stifling the hiss he almost uttered.

One of the pages, and his friend, Thramaer walked in.

"Hello Legolas, how are you?" he said, double-taking Legolas' rumpled and wounded appearance. "I heard the patrol went, er, roughly?"

Legolas grimaced. "Yes, it did. We were continually beset by misfortune, and poor Feraeth almost died."

"But I heard that you almost died as well?" Thramaer, Legolas' close friend from childhood onwards, had a naturally curious disposition, and always appreciated the extra bit of information here and there. He was not a busy bee, nor did he want his "hands in everybody's pot," as the saying goes, he was simply curious. Now he looked at Legolas with such an innocent and begging expression that Legolas sighed, and said,

"I...I suppose, but I didn't almost die...I just...erm, came quite close to, ah, not coming back, is all."

Giving Thramaer a quick look to quell the other's half-worried, half-triumphant expression, Legolas asked,

"What did you need, mellon-nin?"

Thramaer clapped a hand to his forehead in remembrance.

"I forgot!"

Assuming a neutral position and tone of voice, Thramaer began to recite his message.

"A royal summons for Prince Legolas, from his father and Lord, King Thranduil Orophorion..."

But he needn't have said any more, for at those words, Legolas had closed his eyes and unstrapped his knives form his belt.

"When does the king wish to see me?"

Thramaer grimaced now.

"Immediately, mellon nin. I ma sorry, I know you only just got back, I tried to explain, but-"

"You would have lost your position as head messenger." Legolas sighed and stripped off his filthy blood-stained tunic in favor of a fresh one he spotted in his cabinet.

He heard Thramaer stifle a gasp at the sight of the bloodied bandage wrapped around Legolas' middle and chest.

Legolas seized the tunic, wishing he'd waited to remove his shirt until he was completely alone, and turned back to Thramaer.

"Not pretty, eh?" He raised an eyebrow at Thramaer, who looked genuinely worried now.

"What happened," Legolas' friend whispered.

"We were fighting the Shadow in the south, in the form of those poor excuses for creatures, orcs." As he spoke, Legolas began to unwind the makeshift bandage in order to rewrap it better, but gave up as his fingers shook with exhaustion. It was better just to leave it, he thought. It had been fine for a week, what was a few more minutes? "As we fought, I realized that the enemy had nearly surrounded us. I called for a special retreat: keep fighting, but carefully withdraw to save our lives. It cam down to how many I wanted to lose that day, and to me, the answer is always none.

"We were almost clear when their reserve troops burst through the brush and attacked us. I saw Feraeth struck down, so I went to find him and take him from battle. Things weren't going well, and I know that Feraeth is the brother of Adranial-"

At Thramaer's smirk, Legolas rolled his eyes, but his friend spoke first.

"Still seeing each other, I take it?"

Legolas' eyes lightened a little as he responded. "Yes. I am anxious to see her again."

Thramaer's smirk widened, but he allowed Legolas to continue his tale.

"Anyways, we managed to get most of our numbers out of direct battle, but that meant that five of us were still trapped with the orcs."

Legolas listed them out, counting on his fingers as he did so.

"Ingranor, Gareneth, Calanuil, Heledial, and myself. I won't lie; we fought ferociously, but Heledial and myself took wounds. I turned around at just the wrong moment, and the orc's blade caught me in my back, but as I turned, the blade stayed stationary, so-"

At Thramaer's horrified look, Legolas hastily changed the direction of the conversation.

"So we all retrieved our horses and came home."

The abruptness of his conclusion hung in the air. Thramaer shook his head slowly.

"One of these, days, Legolas, one of these days, you'll wake up in the healing ward, and the first thing you will see is me, shaking my head and saying 'I told you so,' if Adranial doesn't beat me to it."

Legolas laughed lightly, clapping Thramaer on the back. He felt sufficiently rested to face his father now.

"Let's see what my father wants, then, eh?"

Half an hour later, Legolas' restored mood had vaporized into thin air. His father had started by sending all but Legolas out of his study. Thranduil then shut the door and turned on his son, demanding,

"Why are you so late? How could you be so foolish?"

Legolas recoiled, as he had been expecting some sort of introductory 'my son, I've missed you,' but instead received a command to sit as Thranduil seated himself behind his desk.

"Ada," Legolas began, slightly miffed. "I was late because-"

"No excuses. You don't see anyone else ignoring my orders, do you? Now," -Thranduil poured himself a goblet of wine- "Tell me why you were os foolish as to lead your patrol of twenty into the heart of the Shadow?"

Legolas frowned. What was his father's mood? Why was his father so angry? Legolas felt his own irritation rise as he responded,

"I led the patrol there because that was where we were needed. Ada, you know we are the elite warriors of Greenwood, so why-"

"Arrogance!" Thranduil slammed his goblet down upon his desk, sloshing wine onto several carefully stacked reports.

Unbeknownst to Legolas, it had been a bad day for Thranduil, King of the Wood-Elves. Right away in the morning, he had tripped on his way out of bed and had almost impaled himself upon a fire poker. Then, he had been forced to listen to a pair of men form Laketown dither about something or another (his attention had been waning). To top it all off, he had been forced to skip lunch as the demands upon his daily time had been urgent.

Added to all of that had been his underlying terror that Legolas would return to him dead, and when the runner had told him that two were injured severely, his heart had nearly stopped. Now his patience ran thin.

"I am suspending you from duties until you can behave like the Commander I know you are!"

Legolas fell back against his chair, shock and horror washing across his face. He ignored the sudden dull pain from his wound and looked at his father in ghastly realization that Thranduil was serious.

Thranduil had rested his head in his hand on the desk, desiring nothing more than his bed, and perhaps another new glass of wine. The rest of the other was resting peaceably on the reports now strewn across his desk.

"Am I dismissed, my lord?" Legolas heard his own voice, and he had never heard himself sound so formal and polite before.

"Yes, yes, leave," Thranduil said irritably, running a hand through his white blond hair, icy-blue eyes locking onto the grey-green orbs of his son, then just as quickly, switching away.

Legolas waited until he was out of earshot of Thranduil, then, swearing angrily, he slapped the wall with the flat of his hands, ignoring the sting of the stone connecting sharply with his palms.

"Legolas, what's wrong?"

Legolas started, and pivoted at his waist. The movement caused his wound to cry out, and this time he could not ignore it. Hissing angrily, he wrapped his arms around his side, looking up to see who it was who had surprised him.

Thoronsul, his elder brother was kneeling next to him, eyes fixed of Legolas' middle.

"You're bleeding, Leaf."

Legolas pushed his brother's hands away.

"Leave off. And don't call me that."

Thoronsul frowned at Legolas as the younger Thranduilion slid down the wall to join his brother. Generally, when Legolas bore a wound, Thoronsul was the only one he allowed to witness it, for he hated appearing weakened in any way at all._ A streak of stubbornness we all have, _he thought.

"Ada has suspended me from my duties as a commander."

Thoronsul snapped his head up form where he had been attempting to ascertain how badly wounded his little Leaf was. "He WHAT?"

Legolas turned his head from his brother's shout inn his ear. Thoronsul apologized then continued, "Why?"

Legolas grimaced, but whether it was from pain or irritation, Thoronsul couldn't tell.

"Come on," he said to Legolas, standing and holding his hand out to his brother. "Let's get you to the healing ward."

Legolas took the hand offered, but said, "No. My room. I left my bow strung, and I have to take care of it before it cracks or warps. And I want to get to bed, brother. I'm exhausted."

"Not before I see to that wound. You're bleeding through your tunic. Come on." At Legolas' mutinous expression, Thoronsul gripped his brother's arm, steering him to his own room instead of Legolas'.

Thoronsul had almost finished the tending to Legolas' wound (though which Thoronsul gave his brother credit for bearing unflinchingly, for it was quite a nasty wound.) when his door opened and Thranduil walked in.

Thoronsul groaned inwardly. Of all times, why did their Ada come when Legolas was at his most vulnerable, eyes closed as he rested his head against Thoronsul's shoulder.

As soon as Thranduil walked in, however, Legolas had opened his eyes, and leapt to his feet at the sight of his father, pulling his discarder tunic over his head so fast, it was astonishing.

Thranduil cleared his throat as Thoronsul stood more slowly, observing his father carefully as Thranduil spoke to Legolas.

"Legolas, please forgive me. I was wrong to shout at you so, so soon after your return and," -his eyes raked Legolas' tunic- "being wounded, I should have allowed you time to settle after a long travel. Do forgive me."

Thoronsul could see Legolas lift his chin in defiance, just the way Thoronsul knew his own chin lifted when he felt like being defiant. Thoronsul shook his head, praying for his father and brother to leave each other alive after their next confrontation.

Tow hours later, both king and prince were still alive, but Thoronsul watched as his Leaf rode away from his home, not looking back.

**/~\ (End Flashback)**

Legolas pulled a tear from his eye with his finger as he realized how much he missed Thoronsul, Thramaer, Adranial, and even his father. Just to be home and safe and looked after...that was what he wanted.

Legolas raised his head and continued on. Those were probably the things Celebrian wanted now as well, and he continued on to scout the area for orc lairs and escape routes.

It was some times later that he heard the sounds of tramping feet and clanking swords and creaking armor of orcs echoing off the sides of the mountain, drawing nearer and nearer...

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Hey people, please read "The Sons of Thunder" by ziggy3 if you haven't' already. It's a sequel to "Deeper Than Breathing," and it's excellent. I'm not really a slash reader at all, but those two stories are...breathtaking. So read it.


	7. Finding Orcs Tending Wounds

MANY THANKS TO maiden and ziggy3 for reviewing, Ponygal54 for adding _Long, Long Journey_ to Favorite Stories, and misscruel for adding it to Story Alerts. THANK YOU VERY MUCH! Please make me add your name to my "List of My Very Favorite People in the Whole Wide World" (AKA Reviewers!).

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**Long, Long Journey**

_Chapter 7 _

_by Caelhir_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Legolas was absolutely still, eyes watching carefully as the orcs rushed by below him. They seemed to be in a hurry, and their numbers were fewer than he thought they would have been. He wondered if this ragtag rabble of orcs was even the same band of creatures that had kidnapped the Lady of Imladris. He waited for a count of thirty to pass before he felt he could safely breathe again.

As he rocked back onto his knees from his position lying above the pass where the orcs had been, he felt a tug on the wound in his side. It reminded him that he had not remembered to look at it once he had arrived in Imladris. Everything regarding his departure from Greenwood, arrival in Imladris and departure scarcely a half a day later had been too hectic and flustered to even remember that he had yet to ask Elrond or elladan to look at it. Though Elrohir was one of Legolas' very closest friends, Elladan was the twin with the greater knowledge and expertise i the healing arts. Both Legolas and Elrohir had a soldier's basic training in the art of healing, Legolas perhaps with a greater knowledge as Greenwood's many dangers demanded, but neither could do much beyond cleaning, cauterizing and stitching a wound.

Now Legolas was torn. He knew that if he followed the orcs now, he would glean better information on their whereabouts for the war party Elrond was sure to send when Legolas came back. Legolas had decided three days ago (for that was how long to had been since Elrond had sent him out on the trail) that if he found Lady Celebrian's captors but was heavily outnumbered and a single handed rescue attempt would be ridiculous, that he would return to Imladris to seek out help. He had also decided to scout the area thoroughly, whenever he found their lair, so that he could be a useful vessel of information instead of a panicky half-informed scout, like he so often saw flying into his father's halls.

Legolas grinned as a memory came back to him particularly strongly. Thramaer's newest recruit, an eager-to-please but slightly overzealous young elf named Gilear, had been on a examination-like delivery, for this would decide whether or not he would fully become one of Thranduil's messengers. Gilear, who had been quite stressed about this final test, had been walking by a few maidens who were discussing Greenwood's younger prince, who had returned from a long patrol a few hours ago. The maidens had been speaking of the enemies he had slain, and how grateful they were for his life. Poor Gilear misheard them, turning the innocent, "I am so glad that Prince Legolas killed all those enemies," as, "I am so sad that Prince Legolas was killed by the enemies." He had practically took the doors of the Great Hall off their hinges when he had come flying into them, carrying such a pace that many elves in the hall looked up, startled as he sprinted up to King Thranduil's throne, where the king was speaking with another elf. The king straightened and had asked what was wrong, for he knew that this was part of the exam: report your last message to the king for full marks. Thranduil was reasonably sure that getting into a panic was not what Thramaer had intended. Gilear had proceeded to gasp out the "news" he had heard.

Legolas grinned as he remembered the look on his father's face, one eyebrow lifted, lips pressed firmly together to stop the wild laughter that had threatened to burst out, as Thranduil had turned to the other elf he had been speaking to. Said "other elf" was Legolas, of course, and he had also attempted to keep the laughter from flying from his. Thramaer, on the other hand, made no such efforts as he had doubled over, pounding his fists on his knees as he roared with laugher. Poor Gilear! He had mistaken Thramaer's tears of laughter to be those of grief for his "dead" friend!

Legolas smiled to himself, feeling a bittersweet pang as he remembered the happy times in Greenwood. He sobered as he remembered, again (his attention seemed a little far away*) why he was out on the side of a mountain, hiding from orcs.

The number of orcs he had seen was a little worrisome, wounded as he was, but if that was the whole of their company, it would not be an absurd effort to kill them all. He decided to tend to his wound now, rather than later. If anything went wrong, as things so often did, he wanted to be in as good 'a health as he could be. He unwrapped the wound, covered for nearly two weeks now.

He wrinkled his nose at the sight and smell of the gash. It was mostly healed, he saw to his delight. He frowned, realized that the majority of the wound must be unhealed on the inside of him, if it still pained him as it did. He sighed, and set to work cleaning it out and rewrapping it.

When he finished that, he repacked his things and set out after the orcs, deadly determination tingeing his thoughts. It was their day to die.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Elrohir?"

Elladan's voice swam through the darkness to tap gently at Elrohir's consciousness. Elrohir groaned and opened his eyes, wondering why he felt so weighed down, heavy and listless. Sitting up, he heard Elladan stifle a gasp. He caught a sight of himself in a mirror conveniently placed opposite him. He mentally reminded himself to ask his father to move the mirror, for catching sight of himself after three days of delirious sleep was not the first thing he wanted to see. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair as he met Elladan's worried eyes. Seeing the way Elladan looked at him reminded him of their mother-

-And in a rush, he remembered everything. He remembered what Elrond had told them, and his descent into his grief-induced collapse.

He looked back at Elladan, eyes slightly moist, and asked,

"It wasn't a dream?"

Elladan shook his head. "No, I wish I had something else to tell you, but it has been three days, and Legolas-"

"Elrohir shot up, standing, swaying dangerously, and sitting back down in one movement.

"Three days? _Three days? _I've been lying here for _three days and no one thought to wake me?"_

Elladan smirked at the look on his brother's face. "Oh yes, brother mine, three days. And I tried everything to wake you, all of our usual waking-one-up tricks too!"

Elrohir stiffened. "Our tricks? Why- but-" he sputtered into silence. "Our tricks are _dangerous! _Why would you use them on me?"

Elrohir sighed and rested his chin on his fist. "I guess Legolas must think I'm a lousy host, eh?"

At Elladan's shifty expression, Elrohir raised his head and regarded his brother more seriously.

"What?"

Elladan cleared his throat and spoke.

That was something else Ada waned to tell you, but you, erm, collapsed before we had the chance. Ada sent Legolas to follow Nana's trail into the mountains. He is going to bring her back."

Elrohir gaped at Elladan.

"He sent- sent- Legolas to- to- _follow a party of crazed orcs into the isolated mountains?"_

Elladan nodded, seemingly oblivious to his brother's outraged indignation.

"He sent him shortly after Linsul's death."

Elrohir's mind whirled into a silent frustration. His best friend, sent on a suicidal mission into the Misty Mountains to rescue his mother who had been captured by orcs, the same orcs who would capture and kill Legolas...it was too much, just too much.

Elrohir stood and walked to his brother. The identical faces searched each others eyes before each moved forward to grip the back of the others shirt in an awkward brotherly read each other's feelings and sent the same message to the other:

_We will get through this, brother, you and I. We will be strong._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

*If Legolas' attention wanders, it's because mine does as well. Please bear with me! I think it makes for interesting background on Legolas in my universe.


	8. Battle, and findings

I guess my incessant nagging finally paid off, because I am simply stunned by the kind and in-depth reviews I got! I really appreciate it when I get review that really go into a lot of detail about what it is that the reader likes, and what they noticed. It's really nice. Thanks to Ninfea di Luna, ziggy3, misscruel, and SJD042342 (I would be interested to know why your name is that particular combination!). Thanks to ziggy for explaining the hits/visitors. Also, thanks to ziggy3, misscruel, and SJD042342 for giving my plot-bunny-dragon new ideas (I have decided that my plot bunny looks more like a dragon, as it has scales, horns and spikes). Also thank you's go out to those who have put _Long, Long Journey_ on Story Alert and/or Favorite Story, and/or those who have put me on Author Alert and/or Favorite Author!

Happy Birthday, _Long, Long Journey! _It's been one year with three rewrites and many setbacks, but we're getting there! Thank you all for your support!

And now, because of the nice reviews I got, I present to you:

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**Long, Long Journey**

_Chapter 8_

_by Caelhir_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Ada! Why do we still simply _sit _heredoing _nothing_ for Nana?"

Elrohir received no reply.

"Why do we not give pursuit?"

He tried again.

"Ada, why can't we go?"

Elrohir growled in frustration.

_Ada, ada, ada._

Elrond opened his eyes and regarded his son, who had complained himself into a silence, and now sat glaring at him. Elladan sat quietly next to him, but his whole being spoke of similar feelings to Elrohir's.

Elrohir looked furious, his sharp sky-blue eyes full of anger and fury. Elrond felt a foreboding premonition that Elrohir's rage was far from being spent.

Elladan, next to him, had his own blue eyes flicking from Elrohir to Elrond and back again. He had his fingers tangled in his dark brown hair, anxiously twisting the smooth strands so identical to his brother's, though Elrohir preferred to wear his hair in a single loose braid, the better for fighting with, Elrond supposed. Elladan, Elrond thought, had a softer disposition than Elrohir, but it had not always been so. Once, Elrohir had been preparing to be a healer, next to his brother as usual. When the news of the death of Queen Nearlinde of Greenwood, Legolas' mother, had reached Imladris, Elrohir had dropped his healer's training for favor of becoming a warrior. Elrond remembered his young voice saying clearly,

"No one will ever hurt Legolas while I live, Ada. No one should have to miss their nana like he will."

Elrond wished for the simple days, when all had been much simpler. It seemed as though Nearlinde's death had been a sort of pillar, which had toppled into the pillar next to it, which in turn hit the one next it, and so on, resulting in Celebrian's kidnap and Legolas' journey.

"Ada!"

Elrond jerked out of reverie to face his sons again. Elrohir had moved forwards on the chair, his hands on the edge of his father's desk. His fingers tapped a nervous beat on the polished wood. Elladan had straightened as well.

"My sons," Elrond said, restraining his sadness and anger in one breath. "I have told you: Legolas has gone to get your mother. I trust him, and he will not fail us."

Elrohir snorted. "He won't _try_ to, but if there were enough orcs to capture Nana after slaying her whole company, then Legolas may not be able to keep himself from being captured or killed as well!"

"Such little faith in our friend have you," Elladan murmured softly. "I believe that Legolas is capable and will be able to bring back Nana in a timely fashion. Have faith, Elrohir, have faith."

Elrond nodded at Elladan's words. Although Legolas was Elrohir's closest friend save Elladan, the fear Elrohir felt for his Nana and the anger at her kidnappers would naturally swamp anything that wasn't pure instinct. It certainly explained why he was fidgeting in his seat, clearly wanting nothing more than to run to the stables, leap onto his horse and run after his mother.

Elrond breathed in, out, in out, before speaking again.

"Elladan, Elrohir, I need you to remain patient. I trust Legolas to find and return with your mother. He has given his word, and although he is not above joking and laughing wiht you and Arwen, he is quite a formidable warrior. You have never seen him fight anything in Greenwood before, but Glorfindel, who himself is an unbeatable warrior, has and he has told me that-"

"Just what _has _the great and illustrious Glorfindel told you?"

Glorfindel's voice practically sagged with arrogance as he strutted over and threw himself casually into a chair, seating himself on it as if it was a throne.

"Do tell, Elrond, do tell. What are the feats of this _unbeatable warrior_ you speak of?" Glorfindel's smirk was humorous, and it lifted the serious atmosphere, if only by a little bit.

Elladan and Elrond laughed at Glorfindel's words and behavior. Elrond threw a paper weight at his old friend, knowing Glorfindel would catch it easily. He did. Elrohir sat back, folding his arms across his broad chest, but he smiled.

Elrohir's mind was still in turmoil about his mother. His dear Nana might never come back, and what was being done about it? His father was acting as though if didn't matter, as though it were trivial...as though Nana could be replaced. Oh, he did not doubt Legolas' ability in any way, but however skilled Legolas was, he was not supernatural, and could not win against impossible odds.

Elrohir cleared his throat and sat up, bringing silence, though Glorfindel's snorts still punctuated the quiet.

"I think," he said boldly, "that if Legolas does not return, with or without Nana, in one week, that we shall send a party after them to give aid." _Or collect the bodies, _he thought grimly, as the other elves in the room nodded acquiescence.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Legolas swore angrily as he cut down yet another orc. There were just too many of them! He had thought there were fewer of them than there were, but more had appeared out of a crack in the side of the mountain he had been push against. Surrounded and alone, the elf had been forced to pull his sword and fight viciously for his life. He had picked up a sword that looked strangely familiar (he had soon after realized that it had belonged to Linsul) and now fought with a sword in each hand. Skilled as he was, the battle was becoming a struggle. His hands were slick and wet with blood, both his own and his enemies'. He spun and decapitated another orc, and its blood sprayed into his face.

Blinking, he turned to face another orc, which carried a mace in one hand and a knife in the other. Swinging the mace, it advance, and Legolas spun away before it could swing into his skull and kill him.

Legolas tripped.

Stumbling over the dead orc that had tripped him up, the elf tried to right himself before he got killed.

The orc with the mace turned to follow Legolas' movement, and seeing the elf's momentary vulnerability, advanced with knife held aloft, preparing to drive it into the elf's heart.

Legolas heard a _twang_ sound from above him, and without conscious knowledge of what he was doing, he had twisted to the side. Now there was also one orc archer or more to look out for as well.

An arrow thunked heavily into the orc who had run in to try and kill the elf. It fell to the ground and Legolas jumped away from it as a scimitar swung towards him. He deflected it and decided it was high time to concede defeat and run for his life. Temporary defeat. He began to fight his way towards the end of the orc scrum, but they bunched together and he was unable to escape. He looked around desperately for an escape. His only saving grace was that the orcs were too stupid to come up with any real tactics, and so ran at him two or three at a time, making it infinitely more simple for him to kill them. The rest stood in a circle cheering on their dying comrades and jeering at the elf who was a whirlwind of flashing swords and dark hair.

Finally, as the sun began to set, though it was hard to tell due to the clouds that covered the sky, he saw his opening. One orc moves aside, and Legolas darted between it and its neighbor, inadvertently diving into the crack though which the orcs themselves had come. Thinking that perhaps he could lose them in the tunnel, he streaked away, carefully checking around corners before jumping around them and continuing to run.

His strength was beginning to flag, though. Elven though he was, his strength had limits, and they were beginning to show at a very inopportune moment. Behind him, he heard the clatter and banging of the orcs as the followed him at a distance.

Turning around another corner, he found himself in what couldn't have been anything but a hallway, with cell-like doors set into the walls. With a thrill of apprehension, he realized thatCelebrian could be in this very hall!

Going more slowly now, he looked into each and every little cell. Keeping his ears alert for sounds of approaching orcs, he made his way slowly, darting from one side to the other, looking carefully for the Lady of Imladris.

Realizing that the orcs were no longer pursuing him here, he stopped to examine himself for wounds. He checked his arms and legs first, for they were essential to his movement, of course.

Finding nothing but a small nick on his finger, he moved to his torso. His fingers roved over his chest, encased in interlocking strips of leather that created an flexible, light armor, looking for wounds of any kind. He found none.

When he moved on to run his hands as best he could over his back, however, his left hand came away deep red and wet. He snarled as he twisted in a circle, hopping slightly as he tried to see his own back. He spun too quickly and fell over, searing as he toppled. He rose to his knees carefully. If Elrohir _ever_ heard about that, Legolas would _never_ hear the end of it! He found the source of the blood and was relieved to find that, though it bled profusely, the small cut on the base of his neck was not serious.

Running his hands over his stomach and lower back, he checked the state of the older wound to side, making sure it was still healing. It was doing decently well, he decided. To Legolas, the world of healing was remarkably simple. If it was bleeding, it was not all right. If it didn't bleed, it was fine.

Legolas clambered to him feet clumsily, the uneven footing and stiffening muscles hindering his movement. He kept looking more carefully, and when he reached the last four cells, he began to worry when the first three of these turned out to be empty. Had he tracked the wrong orc party, engaged in an unnecessary confrontation?

Legolas peered into the last cell on the left and almost turned away before he heard a rustle stir the air in the cell.

Whipping around, he held his sword aloft as he crouched to side of the door, hidden from the view of the thing inside. Pressing himself to the rocky wall, Legolas leaned his head back against the wall. Would he never find the Lady? Would he find her and be too late?

Ignoring a voice that whispered in his ear, telling him he had been too late to save his mother, Legolas pivoted on his toes, still crouching low, and peeked around the door frame.

With a strangled cry, he pressed himself against the bars upon seeing what resided inside.

Legolas had found the Lady Celebrian.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\


	9. Orcs! Torture! Angst! Naked Elves! WHAT?

HUGE THANK YOU to **Ninfea di Luna, daisymall13, SJD043242., LunaQuetzal, modern-mage, and Angel Born of Darkness **(you have an EPIC name here!) for reviewing! And thanks to **misscruel** for being AMAZING and editing/correcting my writing! Words cannot describe how grateful I am! Thanks also must go to those who have added _Long, Long Journey_ to their Favorite Stories and Story Alerts.

Elvish and more notes at the bottom.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**Long, Long Journey**

_by Caelhir_

_Beta'd by misscruel_

_Chapter 9_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**They can imprison my body and abuse it as they like; they can destroy my dignity and take my innocence. Even my very life they can steal but the one thing they can never, ever take from me is my pride. **

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"My lady? My lady!"

Legolas called to Celebrían softly, not wanting to attract the attention of any orcs who may have lingered nearby.

The crumpled form of the Lady of Imladris gave no reply, her breath simply stirring the air that lay unmoving like a thick blanket.

Legolas rose into a standing position and looked around for any way to open the heavy barred door, but of course there was none. He had not actually expected the orcs to leave the keys lying around; orcs were simple-minded, but not entirely dim-witted. If they possessed nothing else, they had some basic form of common sense.

Legolas called to Celebrían again, not wanting to really disturb her too badly, but simply to let her know he was there.

The beautiful lady, diminished by the grime and abuse of her tormenters, sat up wearily, squinting at the door. Her movements were stiff and painful, but her mouth dropped open at the sight of the lithe form at her door. He seemed to her an apparition from beyond the grave. For one wild moment as her exhausted brain tried to catch up with her waking body, Celebrían despaired, thinking that he was dead, for Legolas appeared like a messenger of the Valar to her.

"_Legolas?"_ Celebrían croaked in disbelief. Her voice was like a broom rasping across a dirty floor, as she had not used it in three or four days (she had slightly lost track of the days at this point).

Legolas reached his hand to her. Taking hold of the trembling white hand, he said reassuringly, "Yes my lady, 'tis so._Odulen al leithiad len._"

Celebrían's eyes filled with tears.

"Elrond sent you? To take me home?"

When Legolas nodded, the lady began to weep in tearful thanks.

"Come now, my lady," Legolas said awkwardly, her tears surprising him. "Do you know any possible way for me to get you out of here?"

Celebrían gazed at him, thinking hard, then said slowly,

"I know that there is only one way out of this cave. I also know that that way has been heavily guarded ever since I arrived here. That was three...four? Four days ago?"

Legolas nodded to confirm that it had been four days, and she sighed.

"I don't care to stay here any longer, son of Thranduil. Please..."

There was true desperation in her eyes as she looked at Legolas in longing for her freedom.

"_Ethogo nin_."

Legolas reached his hand to her through the heavy steel bars that separated them.

"I swear upon my own- nay, my brother Thoronsul's life- that I will take you away from here, milady. I will not leave you to be forgotten."

Celebrían smiled at Legolas, hope filling dull eyes.

"Thank you, Legolas, thank you. I thought I would surely-"

But Legolas and Celebrían both froze as the distinctive sounds of shuffling orc feet reached them. Their eyes met, and Legolas raised a finger to his lips, signaling silence from Celebrían. He crept away from her, mind spinning as he attempted to find a place to hide. There was no other way out of the cell block but for the way he had come in. He had tried to scout as much as he could, but he had, after all, been busy running from the rocs who now came ever closer to discovering him. If he was found, Lady Celebrían would have almost no chance of escaping, for Lord Elrond did not expect Legolas back for a while (Legolas had not been able to communicate to him that he wanted to come back and get assistance).

Legolas glanced at the cells around him, then flung open one of the doors and dived into the empty room. Pulling the door shut behind him, he pressed himself to the wall of the cell, praying beyond hope that the orcs would pass the two elves by.

They did not.

A shabby, stumbling pack of orcs tripped into the cell block and, jeering at Celebrían, ignored the cell where Legolas crouched.

One of the orcs pretended to sweep a hat off of his head.

"Why, hello, _my lady!_ I pray I find ye well?" The orc was making a mockery of the fine way in which they thought the elves spoke. His gravelly, rasping voice were not a suitable mask for the words however. His companions shifted restlessly, and the big orc who had spoken seemed to hush them impatiently before turning back to Celebrían's cell.

"Well, _my lady_, it seems that we 'ave been given the _pleasure_ of hunting one o' your kind. There was another elf here, jus' outside this here cave."

The orc, from what Legolas could see of it, was eyeing the Lady covetously.

"Looked right like you, 'e did. Your son? No matter, that, 'cause we wounded it and it's just a matter of time before the poison we use on our blades kill it. It won't be rescuing our anytime soon!"

Legolas pressed a hand to his forehead. _Poison,_ he thought._ Fantastic._

The orcs advanced on Lady Celebrían's cell, opening the door and filing inside. He heard the Lady's terrified whimper and forced himself to remain where he was. He would do them no good to be captured as well.

As quietly as he dared he removed his weapons to better hide. As an after thought he slid one of his knives into a crack in the wall, hiding it from view. Perhaps he could get it to Celebrían later, he thought.

He originally decided to remain where he was, but as the sounds of the orcs tormenting the Lady of Rivendell reached his ears, this became harder to do. He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, trying vainly to block out both the present situation and terrible memories that began to surface as well. The situation had begun to remind his horribly of the death of his mother, a thought he cared not to think upon.

Without warning, Celebrían let out a heart-rending wail. The scream embodied pain and heart break, and jerked Legolas into action. Standing, he picked up his sword and flung open the cell door. It rebounded with a crash off of the stone wall. He stepped forward to slay the orcs.

He had badly miscalculated how many of them there were.

Around fifteen orcs looked back at him, stunned by his sudden appearance. They did not remain that way for long, however.

"That's 'im!" one cried, gesturing stupidly with its scimitar. "That's the one I got!"

"Quiet, idiot," growled the leader, the one who had leered at Celebrían earlier.

"Well, well," he said, advancing. "This _will_ be fun, now, won't it?"

Legolas threw himself at the orcs as they leapt forwards on the command of their leader. A small part of his mind said that it was a useless effort, he was too far outnumbered, but at the very least, he would buy time for Celebrían and the orcs' attention would be on him.

He fought with all his soul for the lady, for he knew this was the once chance he had to free the Lady. If he did not win this fight, he doomed them both to death by orc-torment.

_/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\_

"I'm going, and that's _final!"_

The sons of Elrond glared at each other from across their room. Both had expressions of utter stubborn refusal on their faces. Elladan stood in front of the door through which Elrohir was trying to leave, and Elrohir himself was furious.

"Elrohir," said Elladan calmly, though his glare remained firmly in place. "You can not just take off in the dead of night. Ada briefed Legolas on everything. I doubt you'll get such a favor from him now. You won't know where to go, and let's face it: neither of us have tracking skills as good as Legolas'."

Elrohir said nothing, just sat stiffly down on Elladan's bed. Elladan moved cautiously away from the door and sat next to him.

"El, do you not think that I want nana back as well? I-"

"Then why do you sit here and do _nothing!" _At the very least could you try to conjure up some sort of emotion about this whole thing? It's our _mother_ been captured, and all you can do is try to pacify me? Not to mention that our own father picked our _friend _to go and rescue _our mother!_ Did he even consider-"

"So that's what has been bothering you, Ada asking Legolas to go instead of you?" Elladan said quietly. Elrohir realized what he had said in anger, and instantly wished he hadn't.

"Shut up, Elladan."

He stood and flung open the door, Elladan on his heels.

"Elrohir! Get back here!"

But no one had ever returned to a place they did not want to be simply because they were asked to. Elrohir strode down the hall as Elladan matched him step for step.

"No! Elladan, you just don't get it! She's not coming back on her own! This isn't some fantastic tale where there's a hero with magic or some super-amazing talent to get her free! She's _alone, _she could be dying, she might already be-"

His last word, which Elladan anticipated with wide eyes and a shocked look, was cut off as a door opened to their left.

Both whipped around to see a tousle-haired Glorfindel standing in his doorway, regarding them in a sleepily irritated manner.

"Whassgonon?" he mumbled thickly.

Elrohir and Elladan remained silent, glaring at each other. Elladan was reproached by Elrohir's harsh words. Elrohir was still fuming.

His rage had not cooled for the entirety of the four days his mother had been missing. He had hidden it, tamed it, and kept it below the surface, but it was there, like a fire that raged in his innermost self, eating away at everything that made him himself. He had become driven and focused upon his mother's release like nothing else had ever driven him. He missed her so much and could not bear to lose her. He had seen what Legolas' mother's death had done to the happy kingdom, and knew that Imladris was at that same risk. If he could, he would stop that from happening.

Glorfindel looked at the twin elves for another moment until he realized that something was truly wrong. Turning back into his room, he gestured for the two to follow him into his room. The brothers regarded each other in trepidation, argument briefly forgotten in light of this new situation.

There had been rumors about Glorfindel's living chambers for as long as they could remember. Erestor had said it looked as though Morgoth himself had torn through the place, and even Elrond had difficulty in not agreeing. They took a simultaneous breath... and stepped in.

The place _did _look like a dark beast had ripped through it at one point. Clothes, books, papers, pens, empty ink pots and many other things littered the floor, but that was not all. There was a couch and a chair, both heaped with an immense amount of blankets, giving them the appearance of being a giant fox's den. Glorfindel's bed was also hidden under many blankets and pillows. The room was dark, with only a low fire smoldering in the hearth. It was small for a room of Imladris, but in a comforting way. It did truly seem like Glorfindel actually _lived_ here, not just slept here, as seemed the case with many of the other inhabitants of the house of Elrond.

Glorfindel had a sheet tied hastily around his waist, and he stood in the center of the room, one hand scratching his head while he regarded the mess before him.

"Hmmm," he mused. "Perhaps it's a bit messy, but its not as though the Valar are coming for inspections any time soon."

He turned back to the twin elves. "What's wrong?"

That was one thing Elrohir and Elladan truly valued about Glorfindel. Unlike so many of the stiff-necked, proud elves who lived at Imladris, Glorfindel was much more like Legolas than anything. Blunt and honest, he got straight to the point without any beating around the bush.

Elrohir struggled with himself for only a moment before bursting out, "Nothing is being done! No news from Legolas, nothing form the one whom Ada apparently trusts more than me and Elladan to find _our_ mother, and there's no word, and maybe they're both dead and we don't know! Why haven't we heard anything? What if Legolas deserted his mission? Why would Ada trust _him _more? I know he's all honorable and everything, but _why?_ Would it really have been so bad to just send us? Or even you! Nana needs rescuing now, not a single _scout! _I want to go find my Nana!"

He ended on a shout, finally running himself into silence. He knew it was not like him to feel any sort of doubt about his friends's abilities or prowess, quite the opposite. He had no doubt that his friend Legolas was highly skilled and very adept at whatever he put his mind to. The real problem was that Elrohir was incensed that Elrond would pass up his own _son_ in favor of the Greenwood elf. Elrohir felt a slight twinge of remorse and sorrow as he realized what he was saying about his friend. He as truly worried for both his mother and for Legolas. Elrohir's torrent of emotion stemmed from the gnawing fear he felt at the notion that he might never see either of them again.

When Elrohir had finished shouting, Glorfindel simply looked at him, then at Elladan.

"Do you share similar feelings, Elladan?"

Elrohir snorted. "No, he doesn't. He's like Ada, _stoic and reserved, _a proper Noldorian-"

Glorfindel quieted Elrohir and looked inquiringly at Elladan.

"Yes," said Elladan, but so quietly it seemed he did not want to answer at all. "Yes. I wondered why Ada wouldn't send us. He _always _trusts us. Why not with this?"

In one rush of understanding, Glorfindel understood why the twins were so offended by this situation. It had nothing to do with Legolas, not really. It was more about the fact that the twins felt betrayed by their father, as though their father didn't trust them anymore.

"Ah, you two," said Glorfindel sadly. "Your father trusts you more than anyhting, and he knows you best as well. That is precisely why he did not send you. He loves you too much, and fears for you. I think that he feels you would be too emotional about the rescue of your mother. It is not because he trusts Legolas anymore than you. In fact, I think he would have wanted you both to go were it not for the haste in which he sent Legolas out. I believe he feels a morsel of regret at his hasty decision."

Elrohir and Elladan both regarded their toes very carefully. Neither said anything.

Elrohir finally looked up, defiance and realization in his eyes, and he said, "Thank you Glorfindel. But I think that we must-"

What ever he thought was interrupted by the door banging open. The three elves jumped, as it was the dead of night and all was quiet.

Elrond and Arwen flew in through the now-open door, looks of fear and panic on their faces.

Elrohir, Elladan and Glorfindel immediately tensed. Glorfindel, realizing he was practically naked in the presence of his lord and his lord's daughter, blushed a furious red. _Well, _he thought defensively, _I wasn't expecting so many visitors this night!_

Elrond regarded his sons and Glorfindel before stating simply,

"I sent a party out after Legolas, on a whim. I thought perhaps he might be in need of aid. They were too late. They witnessed a battle between him and a large number of orcs. Twenty or thirty, they say."

"That's not all!" Arwen cried. "They said they found blood on the ground. Legolas' blood! And they couldn't find him anywhere after they lost sight of him!" She had tears in her eyes, and looked fit to burst into tears at any moment.

Elrohir, for once checking his temper and calming himself, turned to Elrond and said quietly, "Ada, there is no excuse now. You must let us go to find them."

Elladan, however, played the part of the temperamental one now instead of Elrohir, firing up and demanding,

"If they were so close to Legolas that they could see him injured, why on _earth_ would they not help him?"

Elrond sighed and rubbed a hand across his temples wearily. The whole situation was more draining than he had originally thought. He had presumed sending the highly-skilled prince of Greenwood to retrieve Celebrían would be easier than this. Now with both of them missing, and his children impassioned and Glorfindel naked-

_What? _

Elrond registered that the flame-faced lord still stood awkwardly naked in his disaster-zone room, sidling surreptitiously into his closet where there must have been clothing.

"Glorfindel!" Elrond barked, causing Glorfindel to jump and grab wildly for his sheet, which had slipped from his hips and was sliding dangerously south.

"Ah, yes, my lord?" The golden-haired elf said innocently.

"Put some clothing on, for the sake of the Valar- and my children, for that matter. In the morning we will be heading out to get Celebrían and see what can be found of Legolas- not that I think he's in any way incapacitated!" He added quickly to calm his children, for he realized that it had sounded as though he was suggesting that Legolas would need to be scraped off the ground somewhere.

In a cave high in the Misty Mountains, Legolas was indeed on the ground, lying prone in the cell across from Celebrían. He had been struck down, stabbed by a cruel orc-blade, and now he stared without seeing at the dark ceiling, blinded by the utter blackness of the place, deafened by the ringing in his ears, and doomed to certain torment and death.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_Odulen al leithiad len._ - I have come to release you.

_Ethogo nin. - _Get me out.


	10. Oh Dear, Oh Dear, Oh Dear

Thanks to ziggy3, JaydeRayne, and zemyx1995 for reviewing, and to misscruel for beta reading!

Thanks to EVERYONE for reading and reviewing! JaydeRayne...Am I really an orc? ;P Yikes, you had better get reading! Please don't kill me...mwahahaha...

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**Long, Long Journey**

_by Caelhir_

_Beta'd by misscruel_

_Chapter 10_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**There is no greater love than to give up your life for a friend.**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_The orc's blade must have been serrated,_ Legolas decided grimly, _for no 'normal' wound could possibly hurt so terribly._

Legolas gazed blankly at the ceiling of his cell, noting the roughly-hewn rock. He thought that the place could not have been carved out of the mountain very long ago, for there was no growth of moss on the ceiling or walls, and such things took their time growing.

It had seemed like hours had gone past since he had made his charge at the orcs, a ridiculously stupid move now that he was looking back on it. The orcs had quickly realized his skill and had attacked him more wisely than they had last time. They had rapidly surrounded him and as he had spun to fight them he had been caught by a sharp orc blade in his upper abdomen. He didn't even realize that he had been stabbed until it was jostled by his arm as he swept it back to kill an orc. Then a blaze of pain had flared in his side and he had staggered into the wall of orcs.

They had seized him and held his stunned form as their leader approached him.

"There is no way out for you, elf," it had sneered viciously. "This is the end of the road."

_The worst part about all this, _Legolas thought now, _is that I think he is right. Even if Lord Elrond thought to send anyone to me after a few days, how in all of Arda would they know where to look? He knows as well as any that I don't leave my trails for all to find!_

He sighed again, then groaned softly as the wound twinged painfully. On top of the wound he already had, which he suspected had been injured worse in the fight, this new wound added a degree of difficulty to his escape plan.

Admittedly, being stabbed, captured and locked deep in an underground cave were also minor setbacks. However, Legolas thought in a grimly cheerful way, there will always be help for those who need it. It just depended on what kind of help and how quickly it got there. He and Celebrían could not hold out forever.

Celebrían! He had forgotten all abut her!

Legolas sat up suddenly and gritted his teeth against the hiss and cry that escaped his lips. Fighting a wave of dizziness and nausea that he attributed to his wound, he crawled to the barred door that infuriatingly blocked his escape, he looked across the rocky hallway to Celebrían's cell.

"My lady?" he whispered. "Lady Celebrían? Are you well?"

What a stupid question that was, for he had heard her rending cry when the orcs had attacked her. She had seemed to have been in bad shape already, but now...now there was no conceivable way for her to still be all right.

To his astonishment, her pale face appeared at her own barred door, and the relief on her face was incredible.

"Oh, you're all right," she breathed. "I called you, but you did not answer. I feared..."

She let the thought trail away. Legolas shook his head against the pain and sick feeling inside him and looked at her, searching for the wound he knew must be there. It did not take him long to find it. A red stain had blossomed among the dirt that sat heavily upon the once-fine garment.

"My lady," Legolas breathed. "What did they do?"

Celebrían looked at the wound as well, as if remembering it for the first time in a while.

"They had a knife. I believe it was poisoned." Her voice trembled as she continued. "It burned like fire, son of Thranduil. I have heard of this kind of poison before. I...I am not sure that it will end well for me."

Her hopeless expression stirred sorrow in Legolas' heart.

"My lady, please," he said, mustering as much stoutheartedness as he could. "You are of the finest elven heritage. A simple little orcish poison cannot lay to rest _the_ Lady Celebrían of Imladris!"

She smiled vaguely at him as she searched his body with her eyes. The smile vanished.

"You are bleeding!"

Legolas looked down for the first time since his return to awareness (he had not been unconscious, merely drifting in a quiet reverie).

He _was _bleeding, and badly. As he regarded the wound, he felt the world spin a little faster around him, and his nausea intensified, as did the pain.

Carefully, he peeled away the tattered shirt that covered the wound. Celebrían gasped.

Legolas gazed in a sort of sick fascination at the terrible rend in his torso. The jagged wound had opened a tear the length and width of his hand.

According to Legolas' simplified Healing Rules (if it is bleeding, it is not all right and if it is not bleeding it is all right), this fell under the 'not all right' category, since it was bleeding.

He said nothing but removed his cloak and tore it into strips, patching the wound best he could. He finished and threw a few to Celebrían, but she shook her head as she caught them.

"My wound has not bled in hours. I am well, for the moment. We need to get out and find healers. You have a better chance of escaping than I do. Go now and..."

Legolas shook his head.

"I came to rescue you, and rescue you I shall."

He reached into the crack he had seen earlier and pulled out the knife he had hidden there previously.

Tossing it lightly across the hall, he said, "Pick the lock with this, and go, now."

Celebrían backed away form the knife on the ground.

"I will _not_ leave you here, son of Thranduil. Not only do I not wish to face the orcs alone, I fear what will happen to me if I should meet your father and he finds out that I left oyu here. Or Elrohir," she added as an afterthought. "He would be displeased as well."

Legolas opened his mouth to say more, but at that moment, the shuffling scraping sounds that meant 'orcs' resounded, and the elves fell silent.

The big ugly orc who was the leader unlocked and opened Legolas' cell door.

"Well, well, well," he sneered. "So it is alive. Better for us, elf. You'll wish you'd died when my boys are done with you. You see-"

he leaned forward and seized Legolas' arm and yanked him roughly for the ground, eliciting a pained gasp from the elf.

"Me and my boys are none too pleased that you destroyed our plans. We have been travelling for a long time, and _she _was just the fun we wanted."

The orc glared at Legolas. "Now we cant do that, can we? What are we to do about that, elf, eh?"

"I don't suppose you could let us go?" Legolas suggested feebly.

"_No, I won't just LET YOU GO!"_ The ugly orc bellowed angrily, his dislike for elves igniting, breaking the calm surface of his temper.

The orcs behind it shifted, sensing their leader's displeasure. When their leader was displeased, it was unpleasant for them, but if there was a prisoner, better yet and elven prisoner, to take it out on, it was twice as much fun for them.

The big orc shoved Legolas' unresisting body into his followers' hands.

"Have your fun, boys. Do what you like!"

The orcs shouted and stamped their feet in joy as they dragged the elf away from their leader and into a room at the start of the hall of cells.

Turning to Celebrían, who watched in horror from the back of her cell, the orc leader sneered,

"You, _my lady_, you can listen to him dying!"

_/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\_

Time passed, and it was all Celebrían could do not to cry out every time Legolas' cries reverberated off off the rock walls. She shuddered as a particularly loud cry was accompanied by shouts and cheers from the orcish tormenters of Legolas. Her over-active imagination had only made it worse, causing her to wonder just what they were doing to him that made him scream so. She clapped her hands over her pointed ears, feeling cowardly for doing so. Was there nothing she could do?

She opened her eyes in realization. There _was_ something she could do!

She found the knife Legolas had tossed into her cell. Her deft hands fumbled at the cell door for not even a minute before the cell lock clunked open. The shouts and jeers of the orcs masked the noise and she slipped out.

Creeping along the hall, she felt as though her body had taken control of her, and all that she could do was watch as she crept along the halls and out of the cave. Breathing the free air, she reveled in her escape, a smile spreading on her face.

But she was not free yet.

There were sentries, she was almost positive. Stepping carefully around orc carcasses that she felt had died by Legolas' hand, she wound her way thorough the rocks and boulders until she saw her savior: a copse of trees perhaps a hundred or so paces away.

She bolted, her desperate want for freedom overpowering her sense of caution.

A shout went up behind her and she sprinted faster. She would _not_ be caught.

_/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\_

The orc ran into the cell roaring, _"Elf! You've lost me my fun!"_

Legolas blinked, in too much pain to respond. His ribs were broken, his nose was broken, his ears were bleeding and his arm felt broken. He wasn't sure about his legs, but they both seemed to be in one piece. He knew that his fingers were smashed and broken, and he was sure that his head must surely be split in two for the pain that radiated from it. He closed his eyes against the pain that coursed though him. The orcs had had their fun, he decided. They had taken great pleasure in seeing his face contort with pain as they had snapped his fingers one by one.

The ugly orc was shouting at him, but the words slipped though his bleeding ears like water though fingers. He picked up on the fact that Celebrían had escaped, a fact which brought him some happiness, though it was devoured by the pain as soon as the thought crossed his mind.

The orc glared at him, chest heaving, before picking up a knife form the ground. It looked at the knife as though deciding what exactly it wanted to do with the tool. An evil grin formed on its hideous face as it raised its yellow eyes to the grey-green orbs of its captive.

"Well, elfie," it said. "My boys and I will be moving along now, but we really don't want to be bothered with you anymore."

Legolas closed his eyes. The end was here. No more pain, no more suffering. He had only been captive for a day or less yet the orcs had enjoyed their cruel sporting treatment of him. What did they honestly see in tormenting elves? Why did they enjoy hurting him? A tear escaped his eye and trailed through the blood on his face.

The orc noticed and said sneeringly, "Aww, little elf is crying for mommy-elf? Don't worry, we'll let her go. That wound we gave her is deadly, elf. She won't get far!"

"But now," the orc said, advancing, "Now it is _your_ turn to die!"

And without any more warning than that, it swung the knife up and drove it into the stricken elf's chest, grinning at the agonized howl that left the elf. Smirking cruelly, it twisted the knife, ripped it free, and slammed it into Legolas' broken ribs.

The world faded form Legolas' eyes as the terrible reality of his situation overwhelmed him and he accepted the one thing that he could think:

_I am about to die._

_/\/\/\/\/\/\/\_

Miles and miles away, a procession of elves rode to rescue their lost loved ones. The one at the head of the procession turned to the two identical elves behind him and spoke to them, his voice low and commanding.

Elrohir and Elladan rode past their father. He had asked them to scout ahead, and scout they did. For hours they rode alone together, keeping close eyes on the ground, the sky, anyhting they could see, searching for their mother or at least a hint that their mother lived.

Yesterday the Imladrin party had found the grim remains of their Lady's company, and had pressed on, feeling the need to travel more quickly.

Now Elladan straightened next to Elrohir, his whole frame rigid as he gazed ahead as the rays of the setting sun streamed past him, illuminating the figure of-

It could not be. Yet it was, running towards them at such a pace Elladan wold never have thought possible. He struggled ot breathe as he punched his brother sharply in the arm.

"Ouch! What the-"

"Look."

Elladan's voice was quiet and disbelieving as Elrohir frowned and turned to look. His jaw dropped as he look in the sight that had stilled his brother and now stunned him.

It was the one person he thought he would never see again, never touch, never hear her voice again.

_Nana._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I see the end in sight, mellyn-nin!


	11. Findings and Being Lost

Hey, folks!

Thanks to JaydeRayne, Wtiger5, ziggy3, Ninfea di Luna, SJD043242 and daisymall13 for your kind reviews! I am so happy you reviewed. Please step forward to receive your medal of favorite-people-ever-ism.

I have some amazing news! I have TWO more stories on the way! "Only Time," in which Legolas and Estel meet for the first time in a terrible crisis, and "One by One," in which Glorfindel is assigned a horrifically terrifying task by Lord Elrond. *grins happily and cheers* I'm very excited.

Also, along with the new tales, I'm also working on my newest and longest collection, "The 100 Themes Challenge!" which is really fun!

So here you are:

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**Long, Long Journey**

_by Caelhir_

_Chapter 11_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**Anything you lose automatically doubles in value. **_

_**~Mignon McLaughlin**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Nana?"

Both twin's voices cracked as they spoke in disbelief. It could not be their nana, for neither had expected to see her alive again. Elladan had clung to hope until he had seen the massacre of her elven company. His hope had withered away to nothing after that.

Now, as she ran closer, it became clear that Celebrían was truly there before them.

She reached them and without speaking a word, both elves leaped off their mounts. Reaching his other first, Elrohir embraced her, burying his face in her shoulder, tears leaking from his eyes. It was her. She was not dead.

Elladan joined the embrace and they all stood for a moment until Celebrían pulled away and looked fearfully behind her.

"My sons, there are orcs behind me, I believe. Are you with your father?"

"Yes," said Elladan, "he is back there. We scouted ahead."

He gestured with this thumb, pointing over his shoulder to where they had come from.

Celebrían's eyes filled with tears at the prospect of being with Elrond again.

"Take me there."

The twins mounted their steeds, and Elladan carefully pulled his mother up behind him, noting her blood stained dress, and meeting Elrohir's eyes. The other had clearly noticed the same thing.

The sons and spouse of Elrond turned and rode away from the mountain in which Celebrían had been imprisoned.

They rode away, none thinking of the friend who was still entombed within the bowels of the dark mountain.

_/\/\/\/\/\/\/\_

He hoped it was a sunny day, he really did.

He wished he could see the faces of Elrohir and Elladan when their mother returned to them.

He prayed she would make it to them.

Turning his head to the side, he gazed blankly at the dark wall, not really seeing it. He was replaying every moment he had spent in the sun, every moment in Greenwood, in Imladris, even the one time he had been to Lorien, though he felt that he had been a little too young to fully understand the noble pomp and ceremony that was housed in Galadriel's realm.

Legolas closed his eyes, tears leaking form his eyes at the pain of his body. His battered form was weak, exhausted by the last few days' sudden up-swing of activity, and especially the last few hours' abuse.

It would never make sense to him why the orcs abused elves. It would never be clear why it was sport to them, or why it was enjoyable to cause pain to others. It must have been their sadistic nature, he decided.

Legolas sighed, groaning as his tormented body reacted to the slight movement. He wanted to move so badly. He didn't want to die in the dark, holed up in some dank dungeon lying in his own blood. He wanted to see sunshine and green hills again, to walk under Greenwood's boughs, to dance in Imladris, to laugh with Elrohir and Elladan...

Legolas set his jaw against the cry of mixed pain and sadness that welled up inside him. Mentally examining his body, he decided that his legs were in acceptable condition to walk.

He flipped awkwardly onto his side, eyes widening at the unexpected pain. He hadn't thought it would get worse if he moved.

Proceeding more carefully, he rolled onto his knees and swayed dangerously. His head was light as a feather. Hadn't the orc said something about poison? He couldn't remember, and at any rate, if there was poison, Legolas didn't want to know about it. It did not do him any benefit to know what was wrong with him at this point.

He succeeded in hauling himself to his feet, though unable to use his mutilated hands. Staggering, he looked around, trying vainly to ascertain where in the dark dungeon e was. He remembered the big ugly leader-orc tearing him from his bloodthirsty tormenter and tossing him somewhere, but he didn't know where "somewhere" was. He took a step, and another. The pain in his side where the leader orc had stabbed him cruelly was agonizing. His chest clenched tightly and he thought his heart must surely stop from the wound that was so near to it. His fingers were in agony and he felt like nothing more than sitting down and crying for his naneth.

_Progress,_ he thought disparagingly. _Come now, you're a warrior of Greenwood, and you've been through worse than this! Buck up, now!_

But no matter how much he tried, he couldn't convince himself that he had gone through worse, or that he could raise his spirits. He knew the truth just as any would have: he was dying.

He could feel the poison the orc had told Celebrían about sweeping through him in waves, each time leaving him more drained and in more pain than before. Every time the onslaught of poison would come, he closed his eyes and waited for the nauseating dizziness to pass, before the pain and exhaustion would reclaim him.

How long he continued walking like this, he didn't know, but he continued nonetheless. One foot forward, other foot forward, a pattern that moved him forward. He didn't know it but he was growing closer and closer to the mouth of the dark cave. It was going on nightfall, however, so no light would reach him for the outside.

Before long, he realized that his eyes were closed and he wasn't moving. His mind was spinning and he didn't have any bearing on his location.

He stumbled and when he straightened, clutching his arms to his agonized middle, he did not know he was facing back into the cave. He staggered on, not realizing he was taking himself back into the deep dark prison.

_/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\_

"_Celebrían!"_

Elrond's cry rang through the unmoving evening air. He leapt off his horse and raced toward his sons and wife, not taking note of Glorfindel behind him scanning the horizon for the other elf who should have been with the group of three.

Elrond took in the sight of his wife, eyes brimming with tears. Because of their deep marital bond, he knew form that moment that she was changed, that there was a possibility that she would never find peace in Middle Earth again.

But he didn't care right now. He swept Celebrían into his arms and rejoiced in being able to just hold her, and to know she was with him, alive.

Their moment ended abruptly when Glorfindel spoke suddenly.

"Where is Legolas?"

Elrond froze, eyes widening. Celebrían gave a small cry of horror. Elladan, whipped around and stared at the horizon as though the tall Greenwood elf would suddenly materialize there.

Elrohir did not look around, did not make a sound, simply sat heavily on the grass, face in his hand. This was because he hand't believed in his friend's strength, he knew it. He hadn't trusted Legolas to rescue Celebrían and now his friend was gone, just as Celebrían had been.

Elrohir raised his head, defiance in his eyes.

_No, _he thought harshly._ Not this time. I will not let my own despair overrule my actions now. Legolas is probably still back wherever my mother was, cleaning up or something like that!_

Turning to Elladan and glorfindel, the three began to make plans of how to go about finding Legolas.

In the deep belly of the cave, Legolas had wandered back into the cell block he had tried so hard to leave. He was delusional and nearly blinded by pain and despair. Tears slipped down his face as he bumped into walls and finally fell into the very cell he had first hidden in when he had originally come here.

He cried without restraint, for his muddled and weary mind knew there was no escape now. He was doomed to die alone and in the dark. His pain overwhelmed him and he knew the poison would be sending him into his death-thralls soon. He had no choice but to try and relax best he could while in so much agony. His head spun even as he lay on the ground, and his chest and side were like stabbing pokers of fire and pain. His fingers had long been discounted as useless and too painful to bother with. His head pounded fiercely, and his blood was like sharp ice inside him.

He cried out one last time as darkness closed in around him. There wasn't enough time for him! He didn't even know if Celebrían had made it back to Imladris. He never made things right with his father, said goodbye to his brother...

Just as the darkness was about to take him, he saw movement. Turning his head weakly, he saw a dark-haired elven maiden kneeling down beside him, her soft grey eyes sadly taking in the sight of his broken and dying body.

Legolas could not breathe, but it didn't seem to matter anymore.

"_Nana?" _he croaked, his voice broken as the rest of him.

"_Oh my son, oh little leaf." _Lauredhiel whispered softly. Her voice was ethereal, floating. It wrapped around Legolas and brought him comfort.

"_Hold on, my leaf," _said his mother's voice from far away. "_I am with you. Hear my voice, my leaf. Stay."_

Legolas closed his eyes for the last time as his body began to give up the fight for life. His whole being stopped trying, and from very far away, his mother whispered to him.

_Stay, my leaf, stay._

_Stay, my leaf, stay._

_Stay, my leaf, stay._

The peaceful rhythm swept him away, and he felt that he was sinking slowly, never to rise, before all went quiet, dark and painless.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Get ready for the end! One to two more chapters, and the TRUE long long journey will be over!


	12. And So, The End

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It had been decided. Elrond and a few others would escort the traumatized Celebrían home to Imladris whilst Glorfindel, Elrohir and Elladan would scout the mountains for Legolas. The little information they had managed to get form Celebrían was highly beneficial. She had told them the location of the entrance to the dark hole from whence she had escaped, and where exactly it was. The mind is a strange thing, for it will remember the strangest details in times of crisis.

Elrohir, Elladan and Glorfindel took off for the mountain Celebrían had pointed out to them as Elrond and his company left and headed home to Rivendell.

Elrohir's blood was seething in a quiet burning rage. He would personally see to it that every single orc within his grasp would die a death so terrible that Morgoth himslef would shudder. His mother broken, his friend missing...these crimes were those which he would never forget, nor would he ever be able to forgive himself if either his mother or Legolas died. He felt responsible, though he knew there was nothing he could possibly have done differently, except, perhaps, for not despairing when he had heard of his mother's capture.

Elladan was experiencing his own set of jumbled thoughts. He and Elrohir had known Legolas since all three of them had been very small. _We have come so far,_ he reflected. _From being small children tagging along after Glorfindel to the warriors we have become, we three have been through much together. _He sat in mental silence for another moment before the terrible thought came to him: _That journey we have shared might already be over!_

For his part, Glorfindel said nothing at all. He could barely think for his worry about Legolas. The young, bright elf had been his favorite protégé out of all the warriors he had trained, though he would rather eat the twins' poor attempts at cooking than let anyone find that out. He had watched the elfling grow to become such a fine fierce warrior, not to mention a dear friend to him and the twins, and a fine role model for the elflings in Greenwood who trailed around after him adoringly. His loss would be one ill-suffered by all.

None of the three solemn elves put into words what they were all thinking: what would they do when they found him? For there was no question that they _would_ find him, no matter the cost. All three were ready to stay out here for weeks if necessary.

For several hours the silent party rode onwards, the black of the night gradually lightening to a pale grey as the sun began to return to them.

Finally, as the sky lightened to palest rose, the three elves saw the landmarks they had been searching for. Elrohir stopped and the others followed suit.

Dismounting, the three bid their horses stay close to the mouth of the cave. Approaching the cave, the three shared glances, mentally deciding who would enter first. Glorfindel finally spoke, his voice rough from many hours of unuse.

"If we split up we can search faster. I feel not the stench that orcs have about them save for the lingering odor that tells me they left this place some time ago."

The twins nodded silently. Advancing upon the dark crack in the mountain, the three took deep breaths and walked in.

The darkness was oppressive, the stench, disgusting. Elrohir wrinkled his nose, and Elladan was hard-pressed not to do the same. Glorfindel's eyes were drawn to the ground, looking for footprints. He frowned in concentration.

"There's a trail here, several actually, but I'm not sure whose. The orcs' trail travels over it, so I'm not sure that it is Legolas' or not."

"Let's go," said Elrohir impatiently, his voice tinged with worry and fear. "If he's in here somewhere, it might take us a while to find him."

Without another word, the twins set off down the dark, low-ceilinged passage, leaving Glorfindel to examine the tracks intently.

They came to a split. Elladan clapped a hand to his brother's shoulder bracingly, saying as he did, "Here we are. Now we must let things to fate go. Let us part and Valar-willing, we find our friend."

"Indeed," was all Elrohir could manage.

The brothers parted without another word, each heading his own way.

Elladan's path took him along a winding, narrow tunnel, dark and tight. He slipped through it, sword ready and eyes widened to their fullest extent in the dark. For a long while he walked along, listening for any sound at all. Once he thought he heard something, but dismissed it, for the mind plays tricks on one in the dark.

_/\/\/\/\/\/\/\_

Glorfindel was carefully following the tracks he had found, retracing the unknown footsteps into the cave. He realized, as he followed the tracks, that the path that Elrohir had taken was the path that these prints followed. Who ever these prints belonged to was in the same place that Elrohir was going. Glorfindel fervently prayed it was Legolas.

_/\/\/\/\/\/\/\_

Elrohir walked carefully but quickly, desperately praying that one of them would find Legolas before it was too late. His path had taken him deep into the mountain, down a dark tunnel that stank horribly of blood and sweat and orc filth. As he rounded another corner, he realized with a jolt of disgust that he had walked into a prison block. Rough barred doors were set into the wall at intervals barring the rooms behind them.

Proceeding carefully, Elrohir began to walk along, peering into each room, not knowing that his actions mirrored Legolas' own behavior not so very long ago. He was half hoping he would find his friend... and half hoping that he wouldn't. As much as he wanted to find Legolas and bring him home, he desperately didn't want to come across his friend's dead body.

- Hide quoted text -

He reached the last two cells, and with relief, found the first one to be empty. He turned around, gave the last one a sweeping glance and turned around again.

He did a double take.

The cell was _not_ empty.

There was a body lying crumpled on the floor, unmoving and horribly still. The sheet of dark golden hair told Elrohir all he needed to know.

With a cry, the Imladrin warrior flung the door aside form where it had fallen shut and flew into the cell.

He fell to his knees beside Legolas' body and moved his hands so as to touch his friend but couldn't bring himself to do it, his hands floating above the elf's still form. He was horrified at what had been done to the Greenwood prince.

Legolas' nose was twisted and broken and blood had dried on his lips and chin. His chest was bleeding profusely from a vicious stab wound, no doubt purposely inflicted by the orcs. The elf's fingers were twisted and snapped, rendered useless. Elrohir felt a terrible jolt in his middle as he took in the gaping wound in his friend's abdomen. That was a wound he wished he would never have seen on Legolas, Elrohir thought.

Elrohir lowered his head to Legolas' chest, heedless of the blood that was there. He wept for the loss of this greatest friend and proud warrior. His mind spun aimlessly as he stood and rocked onto his heels. He slipped his arms under Legolas and lifted him gently, lovingly.

_How cruel,_ Elrohir grieved, _how cruel that Legolas should have died here in the dark, alone! How cruel is fate to take him from his family and friends!_

At the thought of family, Elrohir realized vaguely that he would have to relive this moment to Thranduil, Thoronsul, Elrond, Elladan, Glorfindel, and others who asked. He sighed heavily, feeling the weight of his friend's death, both in his heart, his mind, and his arms.

_/\/\/\/\/\/\_

Elladan's head poked out of the back-door-like hole that was located on the side of the mountain. It seemed his trail had led him nowhere important.

Turning around, he followed his own trail back the way he had come.

Suddenly, through the darkness came his brother's cry. Elladan snapped into attention as Elrohir's voice ebbed away, the echoes fading from his ears. He ran quickly along, praying fervently that whatever Elrohir had found was not Legolas, for Elrohir to make such a sound... that sound was heartbreaking.

_/\/\/\/\/\/\_

Glorfindel heard slow footsteps coming back from the way Elrohir had gone. He raised his head from the tracks, which had become messy and hard to read, awaiting Elrohir.

When the younger twin finally did come into sight, Glorfindel felt a spear had stabbed through his heart.

Elrohir held in his arms the broken, bloody body of Legolas. The noble elf looked a terrible sight, stabbed and snapped and tortured.

Glorfindel lowered his head, teeth bared in pain at the bright young warrior's undeserved death.

Running footsteps were heard and Elladan burst into sight, face flushed form running and eyes bright with worry.

"Elrohir? Are you all right I heard... heard you..."

His voice trailed off as he saw what it was his brother held in his arms. With a gasp and a cry of his own, he rushed forward to lay a hand on Legolas' white brow. Elladan lowered his head and tears slipped from his eyes.

The three elves remained silent for a long time, mourning the passing of one to bright, loved and strong. It was wrong for such a life to end so suddenly, yet they could not express in words the terrible emotion of the situation.

Glorfindel finally rose to his feet and wordlessly held out his arms for the elf's body. Elrohir looked defiant for a moment, then the fight left him and he carefully gave his friend to Glorfindel.

The elder elf regarded the younger one carefully, a frown creasing his brow.

"Come," he said quietly. "Let us leave this place."

_/\/\/\/\/\/\_

In the bright morning sun, the three received an even worse sight of Legolas, for in the dark of the cave, most of the havoc inflicted upon him had been masked. Now the rays of the sun, usually pleasant and warming, were harsh and cruel, blinding their exit from the cave momentarily.

Glorfindel laid the elf on the grass after walking some distance from the looming mountain. He knelt reverently and stayed that way for a while, and Elladan and Elrohir joined him in his daytime vigil.

Glorfindel laid a weary hand on the prince's chest. He whispered a prayer for Legolas' soul and was about to pull his hand away when he felt-

He jerked away, eyes flying open. He gaped at the body before him. The twins were giving him mutinous looks for disturbing the vigil but he didn't care. He was sure he had just felt a faint, weak heart beat.

Pushing the twins aside, and ignoring their swearing and indignation at him, he laid his head flat against Legolas' chest, closing his eyes and listening intently. Just when he had almost given up hope, there it was again!

He smiled and raised his head, turning to the twins.

"He lives."

Elrohir shoved Glorfindel roughly out of the way. There would be time to apologize later. He put his own head next to Legolas' chest, and listened to the proof of Legolas' life for himself. Tears of joy poured down his face.

"So he does," he said wetly, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "We must get him to Ada as soon as we can."

After Elladan had also listened to the heartbeat, the three stood, and Glorfindel took Legolas back into his arms. The three elves mounted their horses and rode swiftly away. It was a day and a half's ride home, but their horses were fleet and they were rejuvenated.

Their friend Legolas was alive.

_/\/\/\/\/\/\/\_

"Lord Elrond, Lord Elrond!"

The tall elf with bright golden hair leapt off his horse and turned to take the still form of another elf from one of two dark-haired elves who were still mounted.

A tall regal-looking elf came outside from the grand House and cast his eyes over the company in the courtyard. It had been only a day and a half or so since he had left them to search for the limp elf, and now they were back already.

Sadness crinkled his brows and he moved forward to pay his respects to the dead prince, but Glorfindel shook his head, forestalling the action.

"He lives, my lord! He lives!"

Elrond's eyes widened and he examined Legolas' still face. He reached for a pulse on the elf's neck and found one. His eyes lit up.

"Quickly, Glorfindel, to the Healing Rooms!"

Turning to his sons, he regarded them seriously.

"Are you well?"

Elrohir looked at his father bleakly.

"Yes Ada, but we have something to ask you."

"Ask away, my son, ask away..."

Elladan cleared his throat and glanced at Elrohir, who nodded encouragingly.

"Ada, we beg your permission to go out and hunt down the orcs who did this to Legolas and to our mother. We cannot let this injustice sit."

It seemed to Lord Elrond that both twins spoke at the same time though Elladan was the only one whose lips moved. It also occurred to him that they were probably going to go and do what it was they wanted with or without his permission. Asking was simply a nicety. He sighed and looked at his sons. They would be forever changer by this.

"Yes, you have my blessing, but please come in and freshen up. At least stay long enough until Legolas returns to consciousness. And your mother wants to see you as well."

The fire left the twins eyes to be replaced by a simmer that wold never leave. they dismounted and led their horses to the stable where the tired beasts were taken by the stable hands. The twins walked past their father into the house.

Elrond looked into the evening sky before going back into the house. There was so much work to be done. Legolas needed immediate healing, letters needed to go to Thranduil in Greenwood and Galadriel and Celeborn in Lórien. He needed to speak to his wife and his sons and daughter. He was worried for his children and for their friend.

He sighed and entered the House. There was no point in worrying yet. What would come, would come, and he would have to meet it when it did.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**My deepest thanks to**

Ammy14k

Angel Born of Darkness

daisymall13

iccle fairy

jada951

JaydeRayne

Lady Ambreanna

Legolas Thranduilion

Leo-firefly

Linwe of the Night

LunaQuetzal

Maiden

midnight13731

misscruel

modernmage

Mystery Maiden 016

Ninfea di Luna

The Phantom Dragon

Shift Key

SJD042342

Tiki

Wtiger5

xo i love emmett xo

yenneffer

zemyx1995

ziggy3

**for reviewing, thanks to**

Alika Jones

a shadow in the dark

Angel Magic08l

an239

ashuraochan

Atimys

Blade-Rose

crumpet93

darkbloodymoon

Devon-Cullen

Eressie

french-charlotte

Hirilnin

IridescentFireflies

JaydeRayne

justgiver

LunaQuetzal

midnight13731

Mister Bandpants

MattKyrie

Nanashi-Angel

Ninfea di Luna

misscruel

The Phantom Dragon

sammie-lu

SJD043242

Squigglytext

sumonespaztastic

Reina Ann Vilre

Rei6

VictoireAgathon

vwbuba

xEmmaPevensiePendragonx

ziggy3

**for adding _Long, Long Journey_ to their Story Alerts, and thanks to**

Ammy14k

anitrasdance

Blade-Rose

buecherwurm91

ColdFire127

Faile379

Hukrasoar

KamikazeBonsai

Legolas Thranduilion

Lady Secor

MattKyrie

midnight13731

miggity

missmostlikely

Ninedegreesabove

Ninfea di Luna

Ponygal54

SJD043242

Xaja Silversheen

xo i love emmett xo

zemyx1995

**for adding _Long, Long Journey_ to their Favorite Stories.**

**Special thanks go to **

MISSCRUEL for beta reading _Long, Long Journey,_

ZIGGY3 for guidance, encouragement, advice and kindness,

MIDNIGHT13731 for my chapterly dose of humor,

and to NINFEA DI LUNA for your excitement and enthusiasm.

It's been one heck of a ride, and I thank you all for sticking with me and being amazing with support and diagnosing my orcishness (I'm looking at YOU, JaydeRayne!).

Keep your eyes open for the sequel, _Someone Said Goodbye!_


End file.
